


A Show of Unity

by rudbeckia



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Fake Marriage, Force Choking, Hux is Not Nice, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, sex acts mentioned but not described in detail, the murderous kind not the sexy kind, there is major character death but you can avoid it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-05 00:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15852774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Ren decides the best way to persuade High Command of his authority and Hux’s loyalty is to pretend to get married and present a united front in all decisions.  It does not go exactly to plan, but they decide to make the best of their unexpected situation.Hux decides to consult Ren before choosing which systems will be brought under the Order’s control. Ren thinks Hux is thinking too small. He suggests a challenging target—Nal Hutta—and sets in motion events that will result in a restructure of the First Order.Are his motives really as simple as wanting to stamp out any link to organised crime, or does the Supreme Leader have another agenda?There will be three endings depending on what you’d like to happen next. Please heed the warnings! If you want to avoid MCD then skip chapters 7 & 8Chapter 7 - Ending One - Major character death.Chapter 8 - Ending Two - the other major character death.Chapter 9 - Ending Three - the happy ending where everyone lives. Even Opan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 for the prompts Accidentally Married & Mutual Pining. The rest just grew.

The Supreme Leader suggested it seemingly as an offhand thought after a particularly fraught High Command meeting where the new Supreme Leader’s commitment to the First Order had been called into question. Hux had prepared to leap to his defence with specific evidence of Kylo Ren’s key involvement in the acquisition of new recruits and resources, but the words had frozen on Hux’s lips as the noisiest of Ren’s critics simply fell back in his seat and spent the final forty seconds of his life gasping and staring, flapping like a fish on the quayside.  
Ren had broken the shocked silence with a calm voice. “Anyone else have an opinion they’d like to share? No? Good. Continue with the agenda, General Hux.”  
The meeting ended without further dissent and High Command filed out, all except Ren who stood rock still and the unfortunate Grand Admiral, who flopped sideways in his chair with blue lips and dark-ringed glassy eyes. Hux was last to leave. Ren caught his arm.  
“You were my ally today. Why? You could feed their distrust of me and use it to your advantage.”  
Hux avoided looking into Ren’s eyes. “Putting my personal beliefs aside, I have come to see that the Order is more effective with a force user as its figurehead.”  
“Figurehead!” Ren laughed. “General, I am not Snoke. I have no intention of hiding away in my throne room and playing with the Galaxy, using chastisement and praise as if you were my pet or my rabid cur.” Hux grimaced at the slight Snoke had let him hear often. Ren smiled. “My personal wishes and the Order’s objectives align. I would have you ally yourself with me formally if you would consent to it. Few would dare oppose us if we were known to act as one.” Hux glanced up and Ren’s steady gaze drew him in. He could no more look away than stop his own heartbeat.  
“What do you mean?” He disguised confusion with a supercilious sneer. “Is this a proposal? Are we to marry?”  
Ren tightened his lips, looked away then murmured, “Would you? For a show of unity? For the Order?” Ren’s gaze settled on Hux once more.  
“For show.” Hux drowned his disappointment with vain thoughts of pomp and ceremony. “Well then. I suppose a formal announcement is required. What would you have me say?”  
Ren smiled. “Say that Supreme Leader Kylo Ren and Grand Marshal Armitage Hux are to wed ten days from now.”  
A smile spread over Hux’s face. “Grand Marshal! At last!”

 

“Of course I’m sure it’s a sham, you idiot!” Hux looked at Captain Tritt Opan with derision. “The promotion is real, but what in all the Galaxy makes you think this wedding could possibly be genuine? We despise each other personally. It’s only our professional interests that match.” Hux preened in the mirror, adjusting his new white and gold dress uniform cape just so. “We’ve been bickering since the day his stupid, show-off shuttle arrived on The Finalizer.” Hux turned to face his adjutant again. Opan kept his expression carefully neutral. “You’ve seen the ridiculous length of those wings. Do you think he’s compensating for something?”  
Hux grinned and Opan sniggered. “All the same, sir. I think it’s a good idea to check the legal requirements of the particular two-part ceremony the Supreme Leader has chosen just in case there are any potential pitfalls he might not have noticed.”  
“Oh? Are you concerned that the Supreme Leader and I might end up actually married?” Hux turned back to the mirror and patted at his hair. “How quaint a concept. Imagine pledging yourself to one person for the rest of your life. You can’t possibly know what they will be like in a year, never mind a lifetime.”  
“I suppose that depends on the length of a lifetime,” Opan said, a deniable hint of a smile on his lips. He made eye contact with Hux’s reflection and grinned when he saw Hux’s amused shock.  
“No treasonous thoughts, Tritt. Remember he’s my betrothed. Well then, go do your checking if that will keep you occupied while I prepare for my role in this charade.” Hux acknowledged Opan’s smart snap to attention and crisp salute, then Opan slipped out. He regarded his reflection for a minute more, settled his cap on his head, took it off again and sighed. “All for show,” he told his reflection. “For the good of The Order. Chin up!”  
Still, his lips sagged and his gaze drifted when he thought of how he would struggle to mask his emotions on a day that should, he’d been told, be one of the happiest of his life.

 

The ceremony chosen by Ren involved a simple exchange of vows and a single kiss, a decision that provoked no argument from Hux. In the spirit of making the event look convincing, Ren invited Hux to join him for a walk-through rehearsal in private. Hux reached Ren’s throne room and tried out his new code cylinder on the main door, flanked by two red armoured guards. The door slid open.  
“Supreme Leader?” Hux called out after a few seconds.  
“Here,” came Ren’s reply from a side door. “I thought we would have the ceremony here. It’s big enough for an audience and we can each enter from opposite doors.” Ren pointed. Hux nodded and marched to the other side of the chamber. He turned when he reached the door.  
“Like this?” Hux walked slowly forward and Ren matched him pace for pace. They met in front of the throne. Ren nodded.  
“Yes. Like that. Then the ceremony happens here.” Ren pointed at the floor. Hux frowned.  
“Supreme Leader, I am not aware of any wedding ceremony that requires the, ah, happy couple to be prone. Kneeling perhaps but—”  
“You’d get on your knees for me?” Ren’s face lit with laughter at Hux’s blush. “I meant here, as in this position. In front of the throne.”  
“Ah!” said Hux with a pink-faced, jittery smile. “We should rehearse the spoken parts I suppose.”  
“And the kiss,” added Ren. “This has to look real. I wouldn’t want to appear tongue tied in front of High Command.” Hux hummed and nodded. Ren gave a slow smile. “I’d have to kill them all.”  
“Indeed.” Hux consulted his prompt card then his head snapped up. “What?”  
“Hux, we’re not even married yet and already your hearing is selective. Can you remember your lines?”  
“Of course I can!” Hux put his prompt card away and recited perfectly. “Again, from the start?”

Ren nodded. Hux went back to the side door then turned. On Ren’s signal, he walked at a sedate pace until they met in front of the throne. Ren spoke his vow and Hux echoed it perfectly.  
“So we kiss now?” asked Hux.  
“Yes.” Ren nodded and leaned in. After an awkward pause, their lips met for the briefest, driest touch.  
“That won’t do at all,” said Hux. “The type of kiss matters. A dry peck will give away our lack of... of sincerity. But we must not cross the boundary into poor taste.”  
“I see,” Ren replied. “Perhaps you could demonstrate the boundaries?”  
“What do you mean?” Hux frowned, stomach fluttering.  
“At what point does a kiss tip over from acceptable into poor taste.” Ren shrugged. “I need to know what you consider the limit of decorum.”  
“You want me to demonstrate a lack of decorum?” The stomach flutter moved a few inches lower and Hux reddened at his physical reaction to the merest suggestion of kissing Ren.  
“Yes.”  
Hux sucked his lower lip and raised his eyebrows. “Well. If you insist.”  
Hux leaned in and pressed his parted lips to Ren’s for a count of three, then pulled back. “That would be acceptable in this setting. As would this.” He leaned in again and repeated the kiss, but this time cupped Ren’s face and slid his tongue across Ren’s lower lip. Ren chased the contact when Hux retreated.  
“I see,” Ren said, quietly. “Hmm. What would be considered going too far? I need to know.”  
Hux pushed his hands into Ren’s hair and pulled him in. Ren made an undignified sound somewhere between a moan and a grunt and kissed Hux back with enthusiasm, hands around his waist, pulling their bodies closer. Hux pushed himself backwards, away from Ren.  
“Well then,” he said, refusing to look at Ren’s face. “I think we are clear that three seconds of slight pressure with parted lips and no body contact is sufficient. Please excuse me, Supreme Leader. I believe I have another, um, thing I should be doing.”  
“Yes, dismissed,” said Ren quickly, face averted as if speaking to the wall and hands clasped in front of him.

A few days after the rehearsal Hux stood proudly dressed in his new finery, ready to meet the Supreme Leader in front of the entire High Command and make a formal declaration of his intention to... Hux glanced at his prompt card although he had no need of it. To love, honour and cherish Kylo Ren. To be a loyal and steadfast partner to Kylo Ren. To remain by Kylo Ren’s side for as long as they both live. He addressed his reflection one more time.  
“Hold yourself up, boy. No snivelling. This is the best day of your life. You gain Supreme Leader Kylo Ren as your sworn partner and no one will oppose you and live. What more could you possibly want?”

Meanwhile Kylo Ren sat in his chambers, glaring at the outfit that hung from a mannequin in his dressing room. Two red-armoured guards stood nearby.  
“No,” he said. “I will absolutely not wear that. Bring me—”  
“But the Supreme Leader always wears gold,” protested one of the guards. Ren raised an arm and the guard stepped back.  
“I am the Supreme Leader and I do NOT dress like I own a chain of seedy cantinas in Hutt space. Bring me... something else. Tasteful.”  
The guard scurried out and returned almost an hour later with a large garment carrier. “Supreme Leader, General... sorry. Grand Marshal Hux sent this two cycles ago. We thought it unnecessary. But—“  
Ren waved his hand, beckoning the guard over. “Show me!” The guard brought the garment carrier over and opened it. Ren stared, frowned then laughed. It was so very Hux. It was perfect. “I will wear it,” he said, “as a concession to my husband.”  
The guard nodded and replaced the shimmering, tasteless robe with the tailored black and gold pieces of Hux’s choosing. When they had finished, Ren held the guard in a force grip, lifted them a few inches from the polished floor, and said for all to hear, “Do not ever presume to decide for me what is unnecessary.”  
The guard crashed to the floor, scrambled to their feet and fled.

Ren examined each garment as he dressed. Was this how Hux felt when he put on his uniform? Surely not. He was certain that Hux did not routinely wear underthings of sheer shimmersilk or a tunic of the softest silkwool blend that seemed so deep black as to absorb all incident light. The fine gold thread stitching accentuated the black of the quilted tunic and smooth trousers, and the belt—a heavy chain of gold with an ornate starburst clasp—drew attention to his athletic figure. The lightweight embellished cloak was such a good fit across his broad shoulders that Ren wondered how Hux had obtained his measurements. The final touch—a pair of soft nerfleather boots polished to a high gloss and lined for comfort—made Ren stand just a little taller as he looked at his reflection in the full-length mirror of his dressing room. But the outfit seemed incomplete. Ren frowned and searched until he saw a rigid case on the floor of the garment carrier. He pulled it to his hand with the Force and opened it.  
“Who would have credited it,” he said to his reflection. “It’s beautiful.”

 

The ceremony opened in the Supreme Leader’s new throne room with a procession of the assembled members of High Command and credit-soaked dignitaries whose egos might be inflated by the flattery conferred on them by a personal invitation to this most intimate event. As soon as all were seated in front of the rows of senior officers and supportive politicians, the music quieted and the officiant stood to give a short address on the history of marriage traditions of some of the main human civilisations. When the speech ended, the orchestra struck up a sombre march and the two side doors opened. Hux appeared in one doorway, Ren in the other, stepping forward in time with the music. From his position behind Hux, Opan watched the audience. From behind Ren, the forgiven guard watched her partners positioned around the perimeter as if waiting for the signal to attack.

Hux and Ren watched each other. Ren could not drag his eyes away from the glorious red gold hair, swept back but styled in a manner less severe than usual and without the constraint of a close fitting cap to hide its colour. The copper-gold of Hux’s hair was picked out again and again in the braiding and decoration of the white cape and the new rank insignia on his sleeve, and the paleness of his complexion seemed delicate like finely chiselled alabaster rather than pallid grey like uncooked dough. There was even a slight hint of pink in his cheeks and Ren thought to himself that Hux had eyes like the palest olivine, polished to a sparkle. It was all he could do not to speed up.

At the sight of Ren in his finery, Hux simply stopped until Opan pushed him back into reality with a firm hand between his shoulder blades. Three things stood out to Hux. First, that Ren had chosen to wear the outfit that Hux had ordered for him at all. Second, that he wore it so well: Ren stood tall so that the cloak flowed in smooth ripples from the points of his broad shoulders when he moved as if darkness itself manifest around him. The gold in the tunic highlighted the tiny amber flecks that Hux felt only he had noticed before in Ren’s deep brown eyes, and the belt drew attention to his physique. Third, Ren had decided to wear the gold and polished jet diadem that Hux had procured for him at considerable personal expense. After having had to shove his commanding officer forward, Opan found he had to hold him back.

The ceremony went without incident. Hux smiled through his vows and Ren kissed him with convincing warmth. The celebratory dinner afterwards in the banquet hall of the _Supremacy II_ included a showy signing of documents provided on a datapad by the officiant and thumb-printed by Hux and Ren, then by Opan and the chosen guard. The officiant declared formally that Supreme Leader Kylo Ren and Grand Marshal Armitage Hux would be married. Informally he nodded to both participants, promised to forward a preliminary copy of the marriage document before the end of the night, then winked and said he would personally deliver and countersign the final copy in the morning. Hux waved him away, caring more about the smoked ladnek on his plate than the documented evidence of a sham wedding. Ren ate quietly, watchful as always. The red guard sat at Ren’s left, unable to eat without removing her helmet and unwilling to do so, until Ren leaned over and said _go!_ Only Opan appeared at all concerned. He tapped at his datapad, requested Hux’s authorisation to read the marriage contract, raised his eyebrows at its final clause and decided the best thing to say was nothing. Given their mutual and vocal disdain for one another, Opan judged that the chances of the Supreme Leader and his Grand Marshal completing the second ceremony were infinitesimal.

Once the dishes were cleared away, the orchestra set up in the corner farthest from the bar and the first dance was announced. Hux glared at Ren. “I said no dancing.”  
“I want to dance with my husband,” countered Ren with a smile. “Did you never learn?”  
Hux responded by shaking his head and offering Ren his hand. “Well then. Because I will not give anyone the satisfaction of gossiping about our first argument as a married couple, I shall request an easy two-step. Try to keep up.”  
Hux yelled something at the leader of the orchestra, who whooped and led the band in a loud chord that launched a rousing folk tune. By the final drawn-out notes, Ren was laughing and perspiring.  
“You surprise me,” he said. “That is a talent I did not know you possessed.”  
“I’m a little rusty,” admitted Hux, reaching up to straighten Ren’s diadem. “But I used to have an interest in Arkanis culture. There were a few of us from Arkanis in my early days with the Order. We would practise the traditional steps with someone singing what they could remember of folk songs until the commandant put a stop to it.”  
“Put a stop to it?” Ren sensed something dark in Hux’s mood change. “You’re not talking curfew.”  
“He had all the other recruits from Arkanis transferred to the stormtrooper programme. He made me stand in line with them until the last instant. Apparently celebrating local culture is bad for morale. Personally I think the old bastard wanted to stop me from having fun.”  
Ren had nothing to offer Hux but arms around his shoulders. Hux leaned into the embrace. The onlookers seemed to like it.

“I suppose we are expected to leave early,” Hux said. “Pretend we can’t wait to be alone.”  
“Mmm,” said Ren, nodding. He stood up and offered Hux his hand. Hux took it and allowed Ren to lead him from the room amidst a polite ripple of applause from their guests. Outside, two guards followed them as far as Ren’s chambers. Hux hung back.  
“Well?” said Ren, opening the door.  
“I thought— Oh!”  
Hux’s alarm was the direct result of Ren scooping him up and carrying him into his chambers. The door closed with Ren’s guards remaining outside.  
“You were saying?” said Ren.  
“The show is over.” Hux wore a stern expression. “There was no need to carry me across the threshold. I expected to be sleeping in my own quarters.”  
“On our wedding night? Word will get around, Grand Marshal,” snapped Ren. “Even from my trusted guard.” His voice and face softened and he held out a hand. “Come here.”  
“Supreme Leader,” said Hux, taking a step backward. “I assumed we would retain a professional working distance.”  
Ren dropped his hand and glared at Hux. “Distance will not be a problem when you continue to talk and act like a puritanical virgin.”  
“This sham was your idea!” Raised voice, Hux reddened. “You said we should marry for a show of unity. A show, Ren. For the Order.”  
Ren stared back at Hux for a few seconds before turning away. “Fine,” he said sharply. “Sleep out here. We can agree plausible living arrangements in the morning.”

Hux watched Ren until the bedroom door closed and he was alone in the spacious living room. He removed his cape and looked around in vain for somewhere to hang his dress uniform, eventually settling for folding the cape carefully and laying it over the back of a chair, then sat to ease off his boots. He paired his boots next to the chair, dropped his belt and unfastened his tunic. There was no blanket provided for Ren’s sofa. He sat, leaned over sideways and reclined into the corner. After a few minutes, the chill air forced Hux to get up and retrieve his cape. He lay down again wrapped in the fine wool garment and challenged himself to imagine future triumph.

Ren pulled off his diadem and threw it across the room as soon as the door closed behind him. The cloak came next, almost ripped into pieces with the erratic movements of his anger, and the tunic fastenings tore open. His belt hit the wall then the floor with a satisfying double thud and he attempted to kick off his fitted boots. After a minute of stamping and shaking his feet, Ren sank down onto his bed and pulled them off, throwing them to join his belt. He sat, gripping his knees, knuckles white, concentrating on breathing evenly until his frustrated rage abated then got up and paired the boots neatly, coiling the belt around them. He retrieved the diadem and carefully bent it back into shape, finger-combed his hair and set thegold and jet on his head. He opened the door and crept down the passageway to the darkened living room where Hux lay on the sofa with his cape for a bedcover. He watched Hux’s pale, blotchy face for a minute.

“Hux, I know you’re not asleep.”  
Hux hid his face under his makeshift blanket. “Leave me alone.”  
Ren bit back a rebuke. Instead, he said, “I apologise for my outburst. Please come through. I had some of your things brought for you. You can use my ‘fresher and dressing room.”  
Too weary for further argument, Hux stood, shook out his cape, grabbed his boots and followed Ren into the bedroom. Ren pointed out the door to his dressing room. Hux went inside. When he came out, damp haired and wearing one of his own grey sleep suits, he pointed at Ren’s head.  
“You’re still wearing it.”  
“I like it. Thank you.”  
“It is tradition in many cultures for marriage partners to exchange gifts of jewellery.”  
“I see.” Ren frowned. “Are you insulted that I did not get anything for you?”  
Hux shrugged. “It would have been a nice gesture. But since this fake wedding is supposed to signify more of a professional alliance than a personal one, I should not allow my feelings to dictate my actions.”  
“No, that would never do,” said Ren, then he shook his head and held up a hand. “Sorry. I meant nothing by that.”  
“Liar,” Hux replied. “Do we despise one another so much that we can’t be civil even today?”  
“Do you hate me, Hux?”  
Hux frowned. “Sometimes. When I think you are trying to make fun of me. Do you hate me?”  
Ren sat on the bed. “Sometimes. When you try to second guess my thoughts. I am never trying to make fun of you.”  
“Really?” Hux looked skeptical.  
“Almost never.” Ren reached out a hand. “Come here. Please.”  
Hux sighed and stepped closer but did not take the offered hand. “I suppose you got me a promotion as a wedding gift. Power is worth more to me than some trinket.”  
Ren met Hux’s gaze for a few seconds. “Come to bed and let’s consummate our fake marriage by discussing what to do with all that power,” he said, standing up and shrugging off his tunic. Hux’s eyes drifted lower.  
“Oh stars, you wore all of it?”  
Ren’s brow wrinkled in confusion then he laughed when he looked down at his undershirt. “All of it.” Ren removed his trousers and struck a pose, resplendent in diadem and shimmersilk underwear.

Hux stared, lower lip caught between his teeth, cheeks flaming, hands trying to hide his nascent erection. Ren reached his hand out again.  
“Hux, I want this too.”  
Hux took a step back and raised his eyes to Ren’s face.  
“You want... what?”  
“You. I want you.”  
Hux’s eyes narrowed. “Is this all some elaborate scheme to—“  
“No!” Ren glared at Hux. “Stop trying to guess what I’m thinking. Sometimes things really are as simple as I say. Scheming is your speciality, not mine. Yes or no, Hux?”  
A few seconds passed with an exchange of silent frowns then Hux shook his head, surged forward and kissed Ren, hands in Ren’s hair knocking the diadem from its perch. Ren let Hux push him backwards onto the bed and pulled Hux to lie on top, tugging at his pyjamas.  
“Too many clothes. Off.”  
Hux rolled away and wriggled out of his nightwear. He rolled back and straddled Ren’s shimmersilk-clad hips, delighting in the decadent feel of the fabric against his bare skin. Ren sat up to kiss Hux again, but broke off to laugh when Hux slid his hand inside the flimsy under-shorts and cupped his balls.  
“Well then,” said Hux, peering down. “What have you been hiding from me. Supreme Cock?”  
“You talk too much,” replied Ren.  
“May I suggest a way of keeping me quiet?” said Hux. “Lie back and think of the Order.”

 

The next morning, Grand Marshal Hux perched carefully on one buttock on one of Ren’s dining chairs while Ren laughed at him over a large cup of caf.  
“Will you be fit for duty today?”  
“Of course,” replied Hux. “If I stand up and don’t walk too fast. What gives you the right to wield a dick the size of a butcher’s special bantha sausage?”  
“Is it an exclusive delicacy?”  
“It is now. I don’t like to share.”  
“I planned to meditate this morning,” said Ren, smiling. “But I could come to your office if you would like some relief from the pressures of your new position—“  
“I think I have had enough new positions to satisfy me for now.” Hux looked up from his tea and grinned. “Perhaps we can—“

There was a warning sound from outside. Hux scowled at the interruption. Ren faced the door where a red guard announced a visitor. The wedding officiant strutted in and brought out a document inscribed on real paper, a cream coloured, heavy, textured card.  
“Gentlemen, thank you for seeing me. As promised I have the final certificate. You know that directly after the ceremony you were not technically married yet, yes? There is another ceremony? There used to have to be three independent witnesses but these days we accept the word of both partners.”  
Ren shook his head. Hux held out his hand for the certificate. The officiant did not offer the document. “Ah. You were not aware. I must ask a rather indelicate question but I think I sense the answer is yes.” He looked from Ren to Hux and back again. “Did you enjoy a conjugal act last night?”  
“What?” said Hux, turning the full force of his glare on the officiant.  
“To be blunt, did you have sex? With each other?”  
“Well who the kriff else would we have sex with on our wedding night!” said Hux, shifting in his seat.  
“I am afraid I need a yes or a no, sirs.”  
“Fine! Yes,” snapped Ren. “Yes we did. He sucked me off. I fingered him open and fucked him so hard he can barely walk today. He rimmed me until I cried and begged for him to breach me with his beautiful cock and the evil fucker told me I had to wait for it and I wasn’t to come again until he was ready to put on his new uniform and nail me hard and fast bent over my obsidian throne then slowly f—“  
“Thank you! Enough!” The officiant held up a hand. “Thank you, that will do. I can finalise your marriage contract now. Congratulations,” the officiant produced a pen, signed the bottom of the card with a decorative flourish and offered it to Ren. “I wish you every happiness.”

The door closed and the happy couple were alone again. Ren frowned at Hux.  
“Did you know?”  
“If you remember, I was prepared to sleep in my own bed alone last night. You insisted I stay.” His face darkened. “Did you know?”  
“No!” Ren shook his head. “I chose a ceremony that looked convincing but was legally incomplete. I was not aware of what completion of the second part of the ceremony entailed. What do you want to do, Hux?”  
“There is no witness other than your loyal guard. I can have Opan dispose of the officiant and you can burn the evidence if you like.” Hux tapped the certificate. Ren sipped his cooled caf and watched Hux. Hux watched him back.  
“Risky,” he said. “I would not want anyone prying into the details of our status.”  
“So you suggest we remain married?” said Hux. “I suppose appearing to be married and actually being married are indistinguishable up to the point where we wish not to be married any more.”  
Ren shrugged. “Then it’s a problem for another day. Married life is tolerable so far,” he said. “I might even start to like you, given time.”  
Hux snorted into his tarine tea. “If you stop by my office later we can discuss it further.”  
“You won’t be too busy with paperwork?” said Ren.  
Hux made eye contact and smiled slowly. “I’ll clear my desk for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well goodness me, this was supposed to be 500 words PWP but it grew a plot.

“Yessir!” Captain Tritt Opan stood to attention in front of Grand Marshal Hux, eyes staring forward, focused on a spot on the wall behind Hux’s angry, red face.  
“It’s a bloody good thing you are efficient at your job!” Hux yelled then went quiet. “Until now.”  
Opan heard the threat in Hux’s tone. He swallowed and dug his fingertips into the sides of his thighs, using the controlled pain to dull his spike of fear. “Yessir.”  
“When, if ever, did you plan to bring to my attention that there was a risk I would end up legally shackled to the Supreme Leader?”  
“Permission to speak, sir?”  
“I DEMAND that you speak, captain!”  
Opan blinked. He spoke quickly. “I read the documents for the second ceremony, sir. I thought it highly unlikely that you and the Supreme Leader would fulfil the requirements, sir. Traditionally there should have been witnesses. There was no indication that the conditions had been altered. Sir.”  
Hux perched on the edge of his chair, slid back gradually, shifted and grimaced, then regarded Opan with a frown. “So you decided not to inform me fully about the second ceremony because you _thought it unlikely_ that...” Hux sighed. “At ease, Captain. I agree that it is a highly unusual situation.” Opan shifted to parade rest. “However, there has to be some penalty for your slip.”  
“Yes, sir.” Opan looked at the surface of Hux’s polished bronzewood desk and the stacks of datapads that sat in ordered piles on it, hoping that the penalty would involve extra paperwork and not an unexpected, unprotected spacewalk.  
“My husband will be attending a closed meeting in this office later in gamma shift. You will warn me when he is on his way and after he arrives you will stand guard outside the door to prevent anyone from disturbing our discussion.”  
“Yes, sir.” Opan suppressed a sigh of relief.  
“This will be a highly confidential, vital strategy meeting. No interruption will be tolerated. Understand?”  
Opan glanced at Hux’s face and made brief, uncomfortable eye contact. “Yes, sir.”  
Hux looked at his control console and called up a composite image of systems rich in resources and short of strong governance. He smiled and selected one then looked at Opan again.  
“Well then. Station yourself in my bridge command office until then. You will have access to all security feed from there. Dismissed.”  
Opan saluted and marched smartly to Hux’s small office at the side of the bridge, logged into the security system and located the Supreme Leader’s tracker. A minute after that, a petty officer came in with a stack of datapads and an apology. Opan smiled and waved the officer away. A day spent compiling tactical assessments for air and ground assault strikes to save systems from probable piracy attracted by their own weakness, conferring protection with the regimented strength of the Order instead, was barely punishment at all.

Hours passed like minutes. Opan filled out report after report, sending them in batches to his Grand Marshal every hour, occasionally casting his eye across the security feed from the Supreme Leader’s tracker. The little red marker that represented Kylo Ren did not shift beyond his suite until well into gamma shift. Opan commed Hux immediately.

 _Sir, the Supreme Leader has left his suite and is heading toward your office._  
_Thank you Opan. Well done on those reports. Remember the rest of your duty._  
_On my way now, sir._

Opan left the Grand Marshal’s command office as pristine as he’d found it. He arrived at Hux’s main office door in time to see it close behind the Supreme Leader, and took up parade rest with his back to the door, facing into the corridor. If he shuffled closer and strained his ears, he could just hear muffled words from inside.

 _”Ah, Supreme Leader. Good of you to be so prompt.”_  
_”Good of you to clear your... schedule for me, Grand Marshal.”_  
_”Ah-hah-ha well then, you see I am a man of my word.”_  
_”Your pet bogweasel is listening in.”_

By the time the door opened and Kylo Ren glared out, Captain Tritt Opan was three steps further away and standing at attention. He saluted.  
“Supreme Leader. The Grand Marshal commanded me to ensure you have no interruptions during your confidential strategy meeting, sir.”  
“Our... I see.”

Kylo Ren closed the door and locked it, then smiled at Hux.  
“I like that one. He’s almost as clever as he thinks he is. Reminds me of you.”  
Hux scoffed. “I am exactly as clever as I think I am. I didn’t get where I am today by overestimating my abilities. Now, I have selected what I believe to be the three best targets for acquisition. If you will look at—”  
“Seriously?” Ren frowned at Hux and pointed at the glowing three dimensional display. “You want to discuss your next military conquest?”  
“When better than when I have your undivided attention? Now, the Hindrack system is rich in minerals but technologically a little backward. Good for picking up recruits for the stormtrooper programme. They have little in the way of planetary defences but might embark on a guerrilla style resistance if we are too heavy handed. I recommend that we offer _technical expertise_ in ore extraction and land a handful of mobile processing facilities on the surface. We can win them over with promises of full bellies and two star destroyers. It may be expedient to arrange a little attack by pirates before we arrive to rescue them. A show of our commitment to fair trading practices.”  
Ren huffed. “You mean show some firepower then force the locals to strip their own planet and donate the proceeds to the Order.”  
“I mean nothing of the sort!” Hux looked offended. “The local population will have a free choice of working in the mines, the processing plants or the factories, should it prove economical to have manufacturing facilities in situ. Their infants will be given better food and education than they could hope for on their home world. What parent would refuse their own child a chance of a healthy, active life?”

Ren stared at the display, moving it this way and that without really looking at it.  
“Whatever you decide. This system is of little strategic importance. That one, though...” Ren brought up another system. “This one.”  
“Supreme Leader, are you insane?” Hux stepped back and his thighs hit the side of his desk. “That is not one of my priority systems!”  
“Then you need to rethink your priorities, Grand Marshal.” Ren faced Hux, standing barely a hand width away. “Or are your stormtroopers unable to cope with challenging terrrain?”  
“My stormtrooper programme produces the finest soldiers the Galaxy has ever seen! Especially since I introduced new protocols to prevent a repeat of the FN fiasco. I’ll have you know that General Phasma—“  
“What’s left of her.“  
“—has implemented new training—“ Hux almost choked when he registered what Ren had said. His face reddened and twisted into an angry snarl. He shoved Ren back a step. “That is completely out of order! Phasma is every bit as loyal, capable and efficient with her prosthetics as she was before her... the incident. In fact, her new limbs are...” Hux saw Ren’s smirk and shook his head. “I see. You’re deliberately provoking me. You have no intention of ordering me to launch a full scale attack on Nal Hutta.”  
Ren grinned. “I like that you defend your most powerful allies. Phasma is everything you say she is, with one exception.”  
“Oh? And what would that be?”  
“She’s not loyal to you.”  
“And you think that’s news? Really, Ren. Grow up.” Hux tutted. “Phasma is my loyal general as long as there’s something in it for her. I’m not stupid.”

Ren walked around the room, making the holo-map of Hutt Space voxellate, and returned to lean in and kiss Hux. “Very well. Target a backward system or two to replenish our resources at minimal cost. But our discussion is not yet over. No!” Ren’s hand covered Hux’s and prevented him from changing the holo-display away from Hutt space. “Leave that up.”  
Hux smiled, hyena-like. “You also find thoughts of galactic conquest... stimulating?”  
Ren pulled Hux close and murmured into his ear. “You promised to clear your desk for me.”  
“Look,” Hux said, indicating the empty, polished surface. “Not a datapad or scrap of flimsi in sight.”  
Ren leaned on the cool, smooth surface with his hands either side of Hux’s hips, then looked up into his eyes. “I did as you asked,” he said. “Last night you made me promise not to touch myself until you could bend me over my own throne and fuck me senseless.”  
Hux’s eyebrows rose. “And you followed my orders, Supreme Leader?”  
“To the word, Grand Marshal.”  
“Then I believe you deserve some version of the reward I promised.”

Hux pushed his hands into Ren’s hair and trapped Ren’s lower lip between his own, tracing along it with his tongue and teasing with a hint of sharp teeth. Ren palmed at Hux’s crotch over his trousers then unclipped Hux’s belt and pulled at his tunic fastenings. Meanwhile Hux dropped his hands from Ren’s hair to the fabric of his wrap-over robe and pulled at it. Stitches popped and tore, and Ren laughed. “Careful! You’ll tear my new robes!”  
Hux pushed Ren off and removed his tunic himself while Ren took off his robe. Hux unfastened his trousers.  
“One day I will rip that uniform off you,” said Ren, moving back in to get his hands inside Hux’s underwear.  
“Is that a threat?” asked Hux, slipping both hands under Ren’s vest and dragging his fingernails across bare skin while Ren took a sharp breath in.  
“It’s a promise,” Ren breathed the words across Hux’s ear. Hux shivered and laughed, moving his hands lower. He pushed Ren’s leggings down his thighs and cupped his groin.  
“Oh you _have_ been a good boy, Supreme Leader. You’re so big already, so desperate.”  
Ren groaned. “You have no kriffing idea. I couldn’t meditate for thinking about this.”  
Hux gripped Ren’s wrists and pulled him around to the other side of the desk. He opened the middle drawer and brought out lube, condoms and gloves. Ren raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Hux pulled on a glove and snapped the synthrubber at his wrist.  
“Do I have to bend you over and hold you down?”  
Ren swallowed and sucked his lip. “Do you want to?”  
“Mmhmm. Not this time. We can revisit that idea later if you’re amenable.”  
Ren laughed. “You talk far too much, Hux.”

 

Later, collapsed onto polished bronzewood warmed by body heat, breath heaving in his lungs, Ren murmured soft nonsensical praise and Hux replied in kind. Eventually Hux peeled himself off Ren’s back and made a face at the mess. Ren pushed himself up and laughed.  
“We should dress and leave,” said Hux. “My adjutant has been standing guard for quite some time now and it’s a poor use of his talents.”  
“I agree,” said Ren, pulling up his leggings and reaching for his robes. “He has quite a strategic mind.”  
“Oh?” said Hux, waiting for Ren to elaborate. Ren laughed again.  
“I only mean that he is analytical, like you, and knows what’s best for him. Like you.”  
Hux frowned and pushed away a little. “Well. As I have already said, I do not share and—“  
Ren pulled Hux into an embrace and laughed. “No. My interest in your sandferret is purely professional. You are my husband and I—“ Ren stopped and bit his lip.  
“And you...?”  
Ren smiled and kissed Hux softly. “We did all this the wrong way round,” he said. “Love, sex, marriage.”  
Hux smiled. “Go meditate. If you care to wait, I will join you for dinner after the delta shift changeover.”

Ren left. Hux put on fresh gloves and cleaned up his desk. He set the air recycler to maximum, dressed decorously and reclined in his chair, tapping on a datapad. After a few minutes, he buzzed his door open.  
“Opan! Get in here.”  
Opan appeared, white-faced and staring-eyed as always. He saluted. “Sir!”  
Hux watched him for a few seconds. “Were you listening in?”  
“No, sir! No way!”  
Opan’s expression remained neutral. Hux nodded.  
“Good. Please compile a report into the tactical challenges of acquiring this system for the Order. I want your preliminary report by the end of delta shift.”  
Hux handed the datapad to Opan. Opan blinked at it and looked up. He shook his head and swallowed.  
“Hutt space, sir? You want to acquire Nal Hutta for the Order?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Supreme Leader!” Hux strutted into the throne room with Opan in tow. Ren looked up from his contemplation of a dusty old tome with lettering unfamiliar to Hux.  
“You seem very pleased with yourself,” Ren said, returning his frown to the word above his finger.  
“Indeed! I am delighted to report that my... _our_ strategy of annexing systems with only emerging technology has been a complete success. We have secured supplies of ores and fuel for the manufacture of a range of vital alloys for only minimal expenditure on ground troops, air strikes and such like, and Phasma tells me the new recruits are moulding nicely into their conditioning.” Hux held his hand out to Opan, who provided a datapad with a holo-projector unit activated and displaying a section of a galactic map. “It may even be worth bringing a shipyard ring into orbit here. There is an old Imperial one, there.” Hux pointed. “Decommissioned of course, but it could be refurbished and dragged back into service until we can build new. I have a feasibility study here if you would care to—“  
“No.” Ren waved his hand and Opan suppressed a strong desire to leave at a run. “Send your assistant away and do not trouble me with insignificant matters.” Hux glanced at the page Ren was studying. Ren closed the book and smoothed his hand over the textured leather binding. He looked up at Hux and said in a flat voice, “please.” 

Hux nodded and turned to Opan. “Thank you Tritt. Wait for me outside. Dismissed.” He watched Opan salute, turn and leave, then turned to face Ren again.  
“Really, what are you doing trying to study those old relics? Stop wallowing in the past and march into the future. I want to celebrate our successes but here you are, grumpy as an underfed gundark because you can’t decipher a few arcane sigils.”  
“You have no idea what you are talking about!” snapped Ren, getting up to put the book away. “Underfed gundark? Ha. You may have a point.” Ren frowned at Hux. “Have you eaten?”   
Hux shook his head. “No, I was too busy with plans to—“  
“Food first,” said Ren, reaching for his comlink with one hand and Hux’s arm with the other. “Talk after. Sit with me.”

Hux allowed Ren to lead him to the throne but stood when Ren sat, resisting the pull of Ren’s arm.  
“Really, Ren, this is ridiculous.”   
“Is it?” Ren smirked up at Hux’s frown. “You want to. There’s no one to see. Take your belt off. Loosen your tunic. Relax.” Ren patted his lap. “Don’t you deserve it?”  
Hux chewed his lip and looked away. Ren’s suite was comfortable and private, if a little utilitarian, every bit as familiar as his own old chambers. His office with the bronzewood desk felt like home and he was completely at ease there. But here, in Ren’s cavernous throne room with its vast height and width and more ways in and out than Hux cared for, felt as open as one of the hydroponic farm-parks in the habitation wing where First Order officers’ families could go to pick jogan fruit and other rare fresh treats.   
“Nobody will see, Hux. The doors are all secured and my guards know to admit no one.”  
Hux looked round, startled, when a droid arrived pulling a trolley, announcing its presence with a few tuneful beeps. It retreated as if it had somewhere else it desperately needed to be. Ren made a show of ordering the turbolift to lock behind it then pulled the trolley closer with a wave of his hand. Hux uncovered the serving dish. When the aroma hit him and his stomach growled, Hux gave in. He unclipped his belt and unfastened his tunic while Ren loosened his robes. Hux perched on Ren’s lap, hand behind him to support himself on the arm of the throne, toes on the ground. Ren laughed. He tilted his thighs and pulled Hux off balance so that he slid into an embrace.   
“What are you so afraid of?”  
“If High Command saw this we’d be a laughing stock,” replied Hux. “We should behave in a decorous manner in the throne room. It is, after all, a public space.”  
“High Command won’t be a problem.” Ren smiled and reached for the food trolley. He offered Hux the first bite of something fried in spiced batter with a sweet, sticky sauce. Hux closed his eyes and chewed. Ren took a bite then offered the last of it to Hux, kissing the syrup from his lips after. Hux laughed and wriggled to free himself and stand up.  
“I don’t want to drop any on my uniform,” he explained.  
“Take it off then,” replied Ren, shrugging out of his robes and sitting down again in his underwear.   
Hux laughed. “The shimmersilk! Did you know I would request a meeting this evening?”

Undressed to vest and undershorts, Hux shivered a little on Ren’s lap. Ren pulled him closer, warming bare gooseflesh with warm hands. Hux picked out a chunk from the serving dish and offered it to Ren, sauce oozing over his fingers and running to his wrist. Ren leaned forward to bite into it, then held Hux’s hand still and went in for a second bite, teeth grazing over Hux’s fingers, lips and tongue tracing every droplet of sweet syrup. Hux pulled his hand back, giggling. Ren reached into the serving dish next, his gaze locked to Hux’s eyes. He held syrupy fingers to Hux’s lips. Hux opened his mouth and Ren slipped his fingers inside. Hux closed his eyes, licked and sucked the sauce from Ren’s fingers, and laughed.  
“Well then, Supreme Leader. Now you have my undivided attention, what would you like to do?”  
“I wonder,” said Ren quietly, kissing Hux between words, “what else might taste good with syrup.”

 

Later, Hux lay warm in Ren’s arms, eyes closed and a hint of a smile softening his face. He sighed.  
“Do you have to go?” asked Ren.  
Hux shook his head. “We are in deep negotiations for the Order’s strike on Nal Hutta.”   
Ren sniggered. “I’ve never heard it called that before!”  
A laugh shook Hux. “This is a very serious matter, Supreme Leader!”  
“Don’t call me that when we’re nude. I refuse to call you Grand Marshal unless you’re at least wearing your hat.”  
“There is one thing I would like you to explain to me, Ren,” said Hux, opening his eyes and sitting a little more upright. “Why Hutt space? Why pick a fight with the biggest bunch of gangsters in the galaxy?”  
Ren was silent for a few seconds. He looked away, sucked his lip and focused somewhere beyond Hux’s shoulder. “I want the galaxy to be free of corruption. Don’t you?”  
“Of course!” Hux’s reply was automatic.   
“It’s more than that. More than just Nal Hutta. I want to destroy the Hutt faction on Tattooine. And the rest of the Hutt gangsters and slavers. Anyone from Gardula’s lineage, or Jabba’s, must die. I want their existence extinguished. Erased.” Ren stared deep into Hux’s eyes. Hux felt an involuntary shiver at the vehemence of Ren’s words. It was intoxicating.   
Hux leaned through the silence that fell between them. “Go on,” he murmured, leaving a kiss beside Ren’s ear, then he moved back to see Ren’s face better.  
“I want every Hutt-backed ‘business’ and every Hutt-bought politician brought to our kind of justice, Hux. Imagine it,” Ren suppressed a smile at Hux’s unblinking attention and lowered his voice. “You and me. Leading the Order. Cleansing the galaxy of the corruption of organised crime. Isn’t that what you want too?” Hux swallowed and nodded. “And after that, once the Hutts have been brought down, we can hunt down all their criminal associates and remove their stink from our galaxy. No more lawless pirates like Kanjiklub and—”  
Hux kissed him then. Ren delighted in it, leaning in, dropping Hux a little and supporting him from underneath, Hux clinging around his neck, clutching the moment to him as if it was the most precious thing.   
“I will build a new Starkiller for you,” murmured Hux. “Big enough to take out the entire Hutt empire.”

Ren froze. Hux wriggled free and stood up. “What’s wrong? It’s the ideal solution.”   
“No.” Ren shook his head and reached for his robe. “Starkiller was an abomination that should never have been fired.”  
“WHAT?” Hux gaped at Ren. “Starkiller was a TRIUMPH! Have you ever seen such a feat of engineering and power? No! No you—”  
“YES!” Ren stood to get dressed. “I saw it. I witnessed your moment of glory. I felt all those deaths in the Force. All those billions of bright lives snuffed out because of your grandstanding in front of Snoke.” Ren watched Hux fix his trousers and smooth down his tunic. “It was obscene.”  
Hux scowled, pink faced and slack jawed. He closed his mouth, swallowed and blinked rapidly. “How dare you,” he snarled, voice low and controlled at first, then rising to a screech. “Who do you think you ARE?”   
Ren scowled back. “I am the supreme leader. There will be no more Starkiller. Put the idea from your head and do not mention it again.”  
Hux finished dressing, turned and marched towards the door. He stopped before the threshold and whirled around to face Ren, face set like stone. “As you command, Supreme Leader,” he said, and stormed out, yelling for Opan. 

As Ren settled to meditate now that he was confident there would be no more planet-sized, kyber-hearted killing machines, Hux stamped to his old suite followed at a safe distance by Opan. Opan paused at the door, left open in his superior officer’s wake, then walked in and saluted.  
“Not now, Tritt,” said Hux, voice a little sharp. Opan stepped back.  
“I misunderstood, Grand Marshal. I will wait for you to—“  
“That’s not what I meant,” said Hux. “I don’t need your salute right now. Sit down. Pour yourself a drink first and get me one while you’re up.” Hux watched Opan walk to the drinks cabinet and pour two miserly measures of his best Nabooian whiskey, torn between admiration at his nerve and relief at his moderation. He accepted one and pointed at a chair directly across the low table between his sofa and matching chairs. Opan sat. Hux dropped onto the sofa.  
“Thank you, sir.” Opan sipped and smiled. “To what do I owe this rare treat?”  
Hux downed his drink in one then got up to serve himself more. “I want you to try to convince me that I have done the right thing.”  
Opan’s eyebrows shot up and he coughed. “Sir, it’s hardly my place to—“  
“Oh do shut up, Tritt. And don’t choke on that. You probably just inhaled something that cost more than your salary.” Hux sat and leaned forward. “I mean joining forces with Kylo Ren. Convince me that it was the best thing to do for the Order.”  
Opan frowned into his glass then looked over at Hux. “Shouldn’t I be trying to persuade you of the opposite? That you’d make a better Supreme Leader than Ren and you should seize power alone?”  
“No.” Hux shook his head. “I need someone else to argue against that point of view.” He waved his empty glass at Opan. “While you’re up?”

Opan snorted a laugh and refilled both glasses more generously than before. Hux settled back on the sofa and raised an eyebrow at Opan. “Come on then, Tritt. What are the advantages in remaining shackled to Kylo Ren?”  
“Well,” Opan said, rubbing his neck and taking a sip of liquor. “First, if anyone in High Command opposes you openly he can kill them for you from halfway across the ship.”  
Hux nodded and held up one finger. “True. But he could also kill me from halfway across the ship if I disagreed with him too vocally.”  
“Sir?” Opan frowned. “Has he threatened you?”  
“No more than usual. Next advantage?”  
“Hmm.” Opan sat back in his chair, warming his whiskey glass between his hands. “The Supreme Leader commands fear and awe. You command respect. Those are powerful allies. Few would dare defy your orders, if given together.”   
“Also true.” Hux sighed. “However, if we disagree, privately and fundamentally, fear and awe seem to trounce respect.”  
“Ah.” Opan drank. He closed his eyes to savour the taste better before swallowing and feeling the alcohol warm its path from his throat to his stomach. “May I dare to ask something personal?”  
“If you have thought it, you had better say it, Tritt.” Hux gave a warning glare. “I will not have you keep secrets from me.”  
“Have you and Ren argued?” Opan watched Hux, ready to spring up and apologise, but Hux remained calm and made eye contact for long enough that Opan looked away.  
“Since you have the audacity to ask, yes. Have you completed your assessment of the military assault on Nal Hutta?” Hux swirled the spirit in his glass then threw it back.  
“Almost, sir.”  
“You may use my name in private, Tritt.”  
“Almost. Um. Armitage.” Opan glanced at Hux, checking his reaction to the unfamiliar sound of his given name. Hux waved for him to continue. “As you know, the Hutt empire is large and disorganised. There is no real centre and no effective government. Nal Hutta is their homeworld, but destroying it would be symbolic at best. Bringing down the Hutts would mean a drawn-out set of battles in a large number of systems.” Opan gulped more whiskey. “I mean, there are so many Hutt factions that eradicating them all would be like pest control on The Finalizer. Just as you think you’ve exterminated every last metalworm and vacrat, scraped every mynock off the exterior power couplings and swept for porgs, another hundred nests show up.”  
“Hmm.” Hux watched the light refract, colourful through the crystal of his glass. “If we still had Starkiller we—“  
“But we don’t, do we?” Opan got up and took Hux’s glass and his own over to the drinks cabinet. He filled Hux’s generously, his own less so. “Even if we did, we would have to destroy so very many planets that the political gain from eradicating those sleemo criminals from the galaxy would be completely wiped out by the outcry against genocide.” Opan set the glasses on the table with a click. “I doubt it would be worth it.”  
Hux sighed. “Fuck,” he said. “I hate it when he’s right. Well then. Conventional warfare only. Anything else I should know?”  
“Only that there will be opposition from some of High Command, whatever strategy you and the Supreme Leader decide on.” Opan held Hux’s gaze for a few seconds. “I’m sure you already suspect a few of them are involved with... organisations that the Empire may have tolerated, or even employed. If I may speak freely? Some members of High Command do not deserve honour in the Order.”  
Hux sucked his teeth and nodded. He sipped whiskey and pressed his lips tight. “Indeed. We need careful surveillance of High Command during and after our next meeting. See to it.”  
“Yes, sir. Armitage.” Opan hoisted his glass and giggled at the warm, disconnected feeling in his head. “On a completely separate matter,” he said, “you should stay with Leader Ren because he seems to make you happy. I like it when you’re content.”  
Hux scoffed. “I think you ought to stop talking before you say something treasonous. Go to bed. Stay here tonight. I don’t want my adjutant to be seen drunk in public.”  
Opan nodded. Hux steered him through to the guest bedroom, made sure he was settled and returned to his living room. He sighed deeply, picked up the depleted whiskey bottle, and left. 

On reaching the Supreme Leader’s suite, _their_ suite, Hux paused. Would Ren even be there? Would he still be in his throne room, consulting with his personal guards about how best to be rid of his troublesome, accidental husband? Hux shook the idea from his mind, but transferred the whiskey bottle to his other hand in case his blade might be needed. He opened the door and crept in without activating the lights. Three steps in, he froze, silent. Ren’s voice, low and urgent, drifted through from his meditation room.

_”You must sense I’ve changed. Without Snoke, dark and light are meaningless constructs. We are the same.”_

_”A temporary measure, that is all. Join me. Together we could—”_

_”But we should not be at war with one another. Join me, and bring peace and order to the galaxy.”_


	4. Chapter 4

Hux put the whiskey bottle down carefully and crept closer to Ren’s meditation chamber, listening intently, but no more soft, persuasive words came.  
“Lights, sixty percent.”  
The sharp tone of Ren’s voice and the sudden glare startled Hux. He took two rapid, backward steps away from the door.  
“Ren? Have you finished your meditation?”  
“Yes,” Ren said, emerging with a slight frown.  
“Well then,” said Hux. “You can explain to me who you were talking to just now. Who were you begging to join you to rule the galaxy?”  
Ren’s face reddened and his brow furrowed. “No one. It was no one.” He saw the whiskey bottle on the table. “Were you drinking alone?”  
“No. I needed space to think and a sounding board. I went to my suite and invited Opan to play devil’s advocate. The devil persuaded me to consider the possibility that you might be right. Now, tell me who you were talking to.”  
“Opan persuaded you to take my side?” Ren’s face lifted. “It was nobody of any importance. Sometimes when I feel most connected through the Force I sense other Force users. Sometimes there is a strong link and I try to recruit them.” Ren grinned. “Wouldn’t you love to have a whole army of force sensitives under our command?”  
Hux scoffed. “Sith! No. One loose cannon is enough.”  
Ren walked over and put his arms around Hux. “You feared I might be planning to replace you. Just for a moment, I sensed it when you came in. I felt your insecurity.”  
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ren.” Hux leaned his head on Ren’s shoulder, wishing he felt less muffled by the liquor. “You can’t replace the Grand Marshal of the First Order with some anonymous force user. What do you know about them? What can they glean about you from these... connections?”  
“It really was no one.” Ren laughed. “And I guard my own thoughts well.”  
“Still,” said Hux, slipping his arms around Ren’s waist. “You ought to be careful.” After a few seconds, Hux added, “Are you?”  
“Careful?”  
“Planning to replace me with some random Force sensitive.”  
“No.” Ren laughed then tilted Hux’s face up and kissed him. “Did we survive our first fight today?”  
“I have not decided yet if I should forgive you for the way you spoke to me earlier. I am not some underling you can order around.”  
“Ah.” Ren kissed Hux again, hands cradling his head, gentle at first until Hux relented and responded with parted lips and a soft tongue swipe across Ren’s mouth. Ren kissed him harder then pulled back just far enough to feel Hux try to follow his touch and said, “What if I ask for your forgiveness?”  
“I’ll consider it,” said Hux, “if you ask nicely enough.”  
“What if I beg on bended knee?” said Ren, smirking, sinking to one knee and slipping a hand up under Hux’s tunic, feeling for the fastening of his trousers.  
Hux sniggered when Ren mouthed at his growing erection through his clothing and said, “Well then. I’ll let you know when I’m satisfied that you have made amends.”

 

Morning brought an indulgent fuck that left Hux in no doubt that he wanted to remain at Ren’s side, preparations for a High Command conference, and Tritt Opan. After saluting his black-robed mentor, the captain shuffled from foot to foot clutching a datapad under his arm until Hux gave an exasperated sigh. “What in the galaxy is so urgent that you couldn’t see me later in my office?”  
“I apologise for the intrusion, sir. Sirs.” Opan stood in silence trying not to stare as the Supreme Leader walked nude from the bedroom to fetch the caf dispenser, poured himself a cup, then walked away again as if Opan was not present. Hux sighed again.  
“I assure you, if this is something I need to hear then Leader Ren needs to hear it too.”  
“Yes, sir. I have compiled a list of known First Order officers who may also be involved with Hutt gangsters and other, um, disreputables. People who associate with pirates, warlords, slavers and their kind.”  
“Of course you have. And?”  
“And I think you should see it before the conference today.”  
Opan held out the datapad. Hux took it and read, his face twisting into a snarl as he worked his way down the list. He handed it back.  
“That is damn near every ex-imperial who currently serves on High Command!” Hux glared at Opan. “Are you telling me they’re all smeared?”  
Opan nodded. “It looks like it, sir. Some more than others. For instance, I have evidence that the top three took an unauthorised detour to Canto Bight straight after the rout on Crait and made deals with...” Opan tapped at the screen and held it out again. “These known criminals.”  
Hux gripped the datapad so tightly that the casing threatened to warp to the shape of his fingers. Ren returned, dressed but still slurping caf, and paused to look over Hux’s shoulder on his way past. Hux nodded at Opan.  
“Activate discreet surveillance of all members of High Command on your list and their personal staff. Use my clearance code and reassign Paze to assist plus any other staff you deem trustworthy. Unamo is good, reassign her from The Finalizer. Bring your preliminary report to my office personally. There must be no paper trail until there is enough evidence to make an accusation stand. One hour. Dismissed.”

As soon as the door closed behind Opan, Ren said, “Didn’t you do a deal with a slicer and petty thief once? Credits and a ship for information about the Rebels?”  
”I did,” admitted Hux. “One needs good information. However, a slicer with codes for The Supremacy should not be left wandering the galaxy. Alas his skill cost him his life.”  
“You should execute them all. Sentence them to death and carry it out yourself. Make it public.”  
Hux stared at Ren, who was refilling his caf. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”  
“Well,” Ren leered at Hux. “Last night you did promise to fuck my brains out. I thought it was a drunken boast but this morning was a revelation.”  
“Hah! I keep my promises, Ren.” Hux grinned for a second. “Look, I can’t simply kill everyone I suspect of corruption.”  
Ren shrugged. “Why not? It would send a clear message to the rest of them that the Order is not merely a shadow of the Empire, but a new power of its own.”  
“Yes, but there must be due process!” Hux gestured at the datapad. “If it was merely the actions of one or two greed-driven, grey-gilled generals then accidents could be arranged, but there are so many names on this list that if they were all to be tried and executed the Order would be plunged into chaos!”  
“Temporary chaos,” Ren pointed out with a quirk of his lips.  
“And it would risk driving our benefactors and sympathetic politicians away. We’d be—“  
“Are you saying the Order depends on laundered money?”  
“No!” Hux was almost yelling. “Of course not. But a public execution would harm the Order.”  
Ren’s eyes narrowed and Hux felt like he was being searched. “There’s more to it than that. You’re afraid of something.”  
“Assassination, Ren. A threatening move would have the rest of the imperial relics wondering if they might not be safer with me bundled out of an airlock or my shuttle mysteriously exploding between ships.”

Hux’s outburst left a deep silence behind it. Ren enveloped him in a hug that Hux resisted at first, standing stiffly in his anger until the struts and spokes of it softened and he melted in Ren’s arms. “I’d know,” said Ren quietly. “If anyone truly had intent to do you harm, I would sense it. You’re part of me now, in a way. You won’t die by the cowardly act of some assassin. I won’t allow it.”  
“Yes well that’s nice,” said Hux, spitting out the syllables. “What about our contacts and supporters within the Republic? We still need them. I won’t risk scaring them away with a show of power for power’s sake.”  
Ren shrugged. “Starkiller should have done that, and yet the Order still has sympathisers.”  
Hux shook his head. “Starkiller was a strike at the beating heart of the Republic. It wasn’t personal.”  
“And yet the Republic stands,” said Ren quietly. Hux stiffened in his arms. Ren sighed. “The Order is big enough and powerful enough to stand alone. With you at the helm, the Order can do anything. Can’t you see that?” Ren kissed Hux, a quick, hungry taste. “Nobody else can manipulate you. Nobody can hold you to ransom over the Order’s finances. High Command will not stand in your way after this purge. The Order is you, Hux. You are the Order.”  
“And you, Ren?” murmured Hux, barely audible. “What are you?”  
Ren laughed softly. “I’m yours, as if you didn’t already know that. Don’t you have a meeting to prepare for?”  
Hux laughed, cursed, kissed Ren and went to get dressed.

The High Command conference went as Hux and Opan anticipated. Hux accepted with grace grudging praise for his acquisition of resources and expansion of the First Order into emerging systems, and scoffed at accusations that he was good only for picking at easy targets. A whey-faced, slack-jowled general, who had often boasted of having been trained by Brendol, sniffed at Hux’s conquests. “I suppose those systems are useful enough, Armitage,” he said, voice dripping disdain, “but you’ll need to prove you have bite if you are to remain in position. Is the Supreme Leader also weak? Perhaps someone with more experience should lead the Order.”  
Hux pierced the nervous hush around the table with a laugh like a blaster shot. “Well then, Holmar, if you nurse a genuine concern that the Supreme Leader and I lack teeth,” he said, “then let me put your mind at rest. At Leader Ren’s behest, I propose a new offensive designed to expand the Order and bring stability to a politically notorious region with decentralised government, a disorganised but strong military capability, and a range of technologically modern mining and manufacturing facilities. If it is a war you want, I will bring you one.”  
Hux activated the holo-projector built into the conference table, sat back and smiled at the expressions around the table as the image of Hutt Space floated in mid air then zoomed in on Nal Hutta and a few other Hutt-run planets in turn. Opposite, at a separate table so that he could document the conference proceedings without interrupting, Opan watched the faces Hux could not see directly.  
General Holmar Starborn blanched even paler than his sickly space-white and his hands clung to the arms of his chair like wet rags. “You can’t,” he said. “The Hutts are... have never been a primary target.”  
Hux leaned forward. “And why would that be, Holmar? They are not our allies. Who amongst us would claim that we should bargain with each of the Hutt clans rather than wipe them entirely from the galaxy?”  
Holmar glanced around the table but found only quizzical stares, smug sneers and furtive evasion.  
“Well then,” Hux said after a few seconds. “We will proceed with preparations. I will be in touch directly in due course with personnel secondments, fleet redeployment details and proposed timescales. Unless,” he said, through a felinx-like smile, “there are any valid and substantial objections? No? Good.”

Hux brought the meeting to a close with a short list of trivial matters and no further dissent. Two newly-promoted admirals hung back to speak with him, expressing their delight that the Order was to be a force for cleaning up the galaxy and promising their unwavering support. Hux thanked them with curt but polite words and smiles, then waited for Opan to signal that the room was no longer under the close scrutiny of his surveillance team.  
“Hmm,” Hux frowned. “General Holmar Starborn needs to be made an example of. I do hope I didn’t drive his illegal activity too far underground.”  
Opan nodded. “Yes, sir. Paze has his comms under constant surveillance. He reported that Holmar’s adjutant would like to win your favour. I believe she may be open to reporting on him directly, if you were to request it in person. She is, I quote, _sick of the old bastard’s wandering hands._ Her name is Commander Gilse Mitaka. You knew her younger cousin, Dopheld. Apparently he always spoke very highly of you.”  
“Really?” Hux raised an eyebrow. “Arrange a meeting. Discreetly. I hope my own adjutant is more loyal than that.”  
“Mmm,” said Opan with a smile. “Of course, sir. I am a man of the Order. I’m with you to the end. If we go down, we go down together. Besides, your hands stay where they ought.”  
“Hah!” Hux pointed at the seat beside him. “I have no intention of going down. Sit there. Talk me through your notes and observations.”  
Opan laughed and sat. “I know where my loyalty lies most comfortably, Grand Marshal. I think we can identify a few ex-imperials who are likely to turn against you, and one Order-grown upstart who thinks she can replace you. How would you like to proceed?”  
“In private,” replied Hux. “I take it the Supreme Leader’s chambers are fully secure?”

 

Ren was in meditation when he was distracted by the door and voices. He smiled unconsciously at the sound of Hux lecturing Opan, and lowered his own voice to a murmur almost drowned by the incessant drone of the air recycler.

_”You know I can’t come to—”_

_”But I prevented another starkiller! The Order is—”_

_”I have something personal to do first.”_

_”I must go. I promise that—”_

Connection severed too soon, Ren brought himself fully into the here and now with bad grace, stretched and listened as Hux and Opan discussed the ex-imperials of High Command. He emerged quietly. Opan saluted him as soon as his large form reached the doorway into the spacious living room.  
“Supreme Leader!”  
“Leave.”  
Opan saluted Hux then left. Ren smiled. “Your bootlicker thinks I’m ill mannered.”  
“You are ill mannered,” said Hux. “Where’s my kiss?” Ren lumbered forward and swept Hux into a tight embrace and gave him a hungry kiss. Hux squirmed and pushed until Ren relented. “No manners at all,” he complained, unable to prevent a smile from spreading across his face. “And to think I thought I could civilise you.”  
“What a fool,” replied Ren, shifting quickly to cup Hux’s groin. Hux squealed and giggled, and Ren laughed. “I take it the conference went well?”  
“Hmm. I will have to write a full report for you. It may take hours.”  
“Why don’t you report to me in person?” suggested Ren. “I’m sure your weasel could write a report. Keep him occupied.”  
Hux grinned. “Well then. If that is what my Supreme Leader commands.”  
“I order you to deliver your report in person, in the sanisteam. I want us both to shower before I eat.”  
“Why?” asked Hux. “What’s on the menu?”  
Ren smiled and pulled his unresisting husband towards the bedroom.

Later, lying in bed with his head on Ren’s shoulder and a deep sense of calm satisfaction, Hux yawned, stretched and spoke. “I will strike directly at Nal Hutta if that is what you desire, but I am struggling to comprehend your sudden interest in Hutt space. If you want to clean up the galaxy, there are smaller targets we could start with, closer to existing Order territory.”  
“Go after the pickpockets and burglars if you want,” said Ren. “I have wanted this for a long time but Snoke was uninterested in the Order beyond how it served his twisted purposes. I will not tolerate organised crime, and the Hutt clans have the biggest networks of filthy financiers and paid politicians in the galaxy. We will crush their pathetic little empires into dust and cauterise the source of so much of their income and influence.”  
Hux angled his face up to look at Ren. Ren smiled back at him.  
“You’re talking about spice, aren’t you? You want to shut down Kessel.”  
“If you still had Starkiller, that is the one target I would sanction. I want to obliterate the scourge of spice dependency from the known galaxy, and with it all the smuggling rings and piracy and pocketed governors who profit from it.”  
“And grand admirals and generals and commandants on the take,” added Hux. “My presentation put the wind up a few ex-imperials on High Command. I estimate that at least six of them are turning a blind eye to criminal activity for personal financial gain.”  
“Execute them tomorrow.”  
“I have already explained why I can’t do that,” said Hux, turning to kiss Ren’s jaw. “There needs to be evidence.” Kiss. “A trial.” Kiss. “Pomp and ceremony before justice is seen to be done.” The last kiss landed on Ren’s willing lips.  
“Oh-ho!” Ren shifted to look at Hux, eye to eye. “You’re composing a speech. I can feel your smug satisfaction at impressive words and rousing phrases.”  
Hux scoffed. “Of course I am. The old Empire was financed in part from the proceeds of the Kessel spice mines and the activity of the Hutts and their criminal gangs. Bribery was a way of life. But the Order must be seen to be free of such corruption and I should give a suitably vehement and uplifting speech about it.”  
“I agree,” said Ren. “And if you have no option but to weaken an untrustworthy and unfit for purpose High Command and take more responsibility for the Order upon yourself, then that is the burden you must bear as my Grand Marshal. Now,” Ren pulled Hux on top of him, leaned up for another kiss, and smiled. “If you have recovered, I want to hear your speech this time.”


	5. Chapter 5

Two standard weeks later, Hux glared at his latest plans for the Order’s attack on Hutt Space. Opan frowned at the holo-image floating above the conference table in Hux’s old suite, and the new High Command members glanced at one another as if daring someone else to put their hand up and point out the teacher’s error. Hux sighed and shook his head. “It simply won’t do, Phasma, every one of these simulations ends with disastrous consequences,” he said, to the noticeable relief of the newly-minted admirals and generals. Commander Mitaka, taking notes from her seat at the end of the table, caught General Phasma’s cybernetic eye and looked down again at where her fingers tapped the screen of her datapad.  
“I agree,” replied Phasma, voice wheezing and crackling despite her vocoder. “In all simulations, the projected troop attrition is unacceptable for the minimal gains made, and would leave the Order weakened. Defenceless.”  
“Hmm.” Hux nodded once. “Colonel Opan, prepare a plan for how the Order can swell its stormtrooper recruitment by forty percent. Include a timescale in your report. General Phasma?” Phasma acknowledged Hux with a nod. “Get me a report on projected numbers of battle-ready stormtroopers. I want to know when we will be able to execute the most efficient of my plans for Hutt Space. Work together on this. Opan, deliver your joint report to me in two hours. Dismissed.”  
Opan and Phasma stood, saluted and left. Hux looked one by one at the remaining faces at the conference table. “Well then,” he said with a smile. “We will discuss the case for annexing the Gormeda system. I believe we can offer them stable government, martial law and a career path for their infants in exchange for exclusive access to their tibanna gas reserves.” His smile widened to show teeth. “I think we should offer governorship to Laurme Kallet. It’s unfortunate that she was implicated in the underhand dealings of Holmar Starborn and therefore cannot sit on High Command or hold military rank. She is very capable. What is your opinion, Admiral Pliyett?”  
Pliyett, still reeling from his promotion by Supreme Leader Kylo Ren himself into Kallet’s command, met Hux’s gaze with enthusiasm. “I agree, Grand Marshal. I am sure a governorship will keep her... she will accept it as the honour it is.”  
“Then it is settled,” said Hux. “General Korbin, please study the strategy I employed for our recent territorial gains and develop a plan for the Gormeda system. You too, General Lafelia, Admiral Pliyett. Work independently and present your plans to me in one hour. Now. Is there anything that needs to be brought to my attention?”  
A chorus of _no, grand marshal_ came from the meagre assembly. Hux stood and everyone else rose with him. He saluted and so did they. Hux announced, “Meeting adjourned. Dismissed,” and everyone filed out.

Two hours later, Hux and Opan stared at facts and figures with anticipated dismay.  
“It’s not that the Order can’t annex Hutt Space in one fell swoop,” said Opan wearily. “It’s that we can’t do it yet. It will take years to recruit and train enough stormtroopers for a successful outcome.”  
“I see,” said Hux, closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly. “And I agree with Phasma that for guaranteed success in the timescale proposed by Leader Ren, we would have to hit them hard, everywhere, simultaneously. If we did not strike down every Hutt and Hutt sympathiser around Nal Hutta in a radius that reaches as far out as Tattooine, we’d risk losing it all again in a matter of months.” Hux rubbed his eyes and opened them to see Opan fidgeting. “Come on then,” he said. “What’s bothering you?”  
Opan sighed and pressed his lips into a line. “I don’t want to sound like I am questioning those in authority above me,” he said. “The Supreme Leader is wise and has great vision for the Order.”  
Hux gave Opan a look of amusement. “So you are on the record as having unwavering loyalty to Leader Ren. Good. Now you’ve got that out of the way, tell me what the problem is.”  
“Ah.” Opan looked away. “I wondered whether the Supreme Leader fully understands the enormity of the task he has set the Order. If he would be willing to consider a more gradual approach, we could begin by claiming systems farther out and—“  
“No.” Hux turned a stern face on Opan. “Leader Ren and I have already had several lengthy discussions on the timescale and manner of the Order’s subjugation of Hutt Space. He is certain that we can be successful.”  
“I wish I could share in that certainty,” said Opan. “It worries me that you agree with the Supreme Leader’s decision.”  
“How dare you!” Hux’s shout made Opan jump. “The ink is barely dry on your promotion and you think you can cast doubt on the Supreme Leader and Grand Marshal?” Opan shrank a little from Hux’s reddening face. “You are not indispensable, Tritt. I am sure that Gilse Mitaka would welcome the position of Adjutant to the Grand Marshal if you are no longer capable.”

Opan stood and saluted Hux. “I apologise, sir! That was not my intention.”  
Hux stood up too and gestured at Opan to follow him through to his old living room. He sat on the sofa and pointed at the nearest chair. Opan sat. “Well then, you had better explain to me what your intention was or you will find yourself demoted back to your old rank and serving planetside with Kallet.”  
Opan sensed the threat had no real substance. He leaned forward. “Gilse is a capable officer but she is used to Starborn’s underhand manner of working. She would be unable to offer you as much valuable assistance as I can, at least for several standard months while she readjusts to your style of leadership.”  
“I see,” said Hux. “Do continue, Tritt.”  
Opan sucked his lower lip for a few seconds then looked up at Hux. “I have a range of skills that you have made use of in the past, and may have need of in the future. I doubt that Gilse Mitaka has the specific skillset you require.”  
“But she could be trained, don’t you think?” Hux leaned forwards to meet Opan’s gaze. Opan swallowed.  
“Of course, but you can’t train someone in flair or finesse. I can meet certain... needs of yours in a manner that is as discreet as it is effective.”  
“Hmm, that is true.” Hux blinked but did not look away. “So what additional skills can you offer me to justify your promotion? What other _needs_ do you anticipate that you can meet?”  
Opan risked a smile, but resisted the temptation to lean further forward, within range should Armitage feel inclined meet him there. “I offer my unwavering loyalty to _you_ whatever should happen,” he said. “But Gilse has already demonstrated that she can be disloyal.”  
“I see,” said Hux quietly.  
Opan lowered his voice. “And if my _personal_ loyalty conflicts with Leader Ren’s orders, then my loyalty to you comes first.” Opan glanced down at his hands then looked into Hux’s eyes again. “With me, you always come first.”  
Hux sat back abruptly and looked away. “Well,” he said, with a hint of a nervous laugh. “I think the matter is settled, Colonel Opan. Dismissed.”

Hux gave himself time to reflect on Opan’s doubts before leaving his old suite and heading for the throne room. Ren’s personal guards stood aside to admit Hux into Ren’s domain, but there was no sign of the Supreme Leader. Hux marched past the throne to the back of the cavernous chamber where a solitary guard stood with her plasma bladed pike activated and held across a small doorway. Hux stood just out of reach of the long, buzzing weapon and wrinkled his nose at the sharp smell of ozone.  
“I must speak with Leader Ren.”  
The guard did not move.  
“Turn that thing off. I am not a marauding enemy agent, I am the Grand Marshal of the First Order and I wish to see my husband.”  
The guard stood to attention and the buzzing stopped, but she did not stand aside. “Master Ren is not to be disturbed by anyone. He is in deep meditation.”  
“Then I will guard the door with you,” said Hux with a shrug. “I will see him as soon as his meditation is complete.”  
Hux took up position beside the red-armoured figure, back against the door that led to Ren’s inner sanctum. The guard took one step forward out of Hux’s personal space and held the pike out once again. The buzzing resumed, and soon after the sharp stink returned. Hux closed his eyes and focused on Ren. Within a few seconds he found that he could tune out the hum of the plasma pike and if he concentrated he could hear snippets of Ren’s mantra. Hux smiled at the sound of Ren’s voice and honed in on it.

 _I am one with the Force and the Force is with me._  
_I am one with the Force and the Force is with me._  
_I am one with the Force and the Force is with me._  
_Is this supposed to be doing something? Because I’m getting nothing._

_I have been patient!_

_You’ll see. Something big is going to happen. Soon._

_You are not weakened by denial of emotion like the Jedi. I am not warped by desire for power like the Sith. You and I are something new. Better._

_The Empire is history. The Republic is useless. The Order will be—_

_No! It won’t be like before. Come to me and—_

_Wait!_

Hux started and almost barged into the guard when a yell and a crash came from inside Ren’s meditation room. A thump and a series of whooshing noises came next, followed by the acrid stench of burning. Hux took a few steps away and the guard took up her original post. About a minute later, the door opened and Ren glared out. He saw Hux and ordered his guard to leave.  
“Ah! Your meditation is complete?” said Hux, with a carefully neutral smile.  
“Yes.” Ren’s face still snarled. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  
“And did you find anything useful? In the Force?” Hux waited for a reply. On the far side of the throne room, the door opened and closed.  
“You ought to know,” said Ren, holding Hux’s gaze. “How long were you listening?”  
Hux let his face set hard. “Long enough, Ren. It sounded like you were divulging First Order plans to someone and asking—no, begging—them to join you. Where do your loyalties lie, Ren? With me and the Order or with some mysterious Force-user? The Order will be... what? How did that statement end?”  
Ren straightened his posture and held out his hand. “The Order will be triumphant. My loyalty lies with you, of course. You do not have to sneak around listening at doors. Give me your hand.”  
Hux put both hands behind his back. “Why should I trust you? You demand that we embark on a military campaign so vast that it risks—“  
“No. No, Hux,” Ren came closer and cupped Hux’s cheek. He spoke softly. “No. I have seen the future and the Order will prevail.”  
“I wish I shared your confidence, Ren.” Without meaning to, Hux leaned in to Ren’s touch. “I want to believe that we can annex Hutt Space for you as swiftly as you say we can, but all our simulations end with the First Order having such heavy losses that we could be destroyed.”  
“Then your simulations are wrong,” said Ren, pulling Hux into an embrace and kissing him. “You’ve missed something or your intelligence is out of date. Send out your drones and your best spies. Send Opan. Find out what you will really be up against when we launch our attack on the Hutts.” Ren smiled and walked backwards, pulling Hux with him into his meditation room. “I promise you,” he murmured, “the Order will bring down the Hutts. Now, what can I do to calm your mind?”  
Ren stroked both hands through Hux’s hair and cradled his head. Hux relaxed into the feeling of warm certainty that diffused through his thoughts and dispelled his doubts. “Of course I know you have the Order’s interests at heart, Kylo. You are the Supreme Leader, after all.” Hux joined in enthusiastically with Ren’s kiss but broke off after a few seconds. “Can you be sure about the future you saw?”  
“Yes,” replied Ren. “Armitage, you can trust me absolutely. Even though you can’t hope to understand it, you must trust in my knowledge of the Force.”  
Hux nodded. “I do trust you, Kylo. It’s just that—”  
“I know,” said Ren, smiling. “You are so used to certainty, to the numbers all adding up in front of you. You can’t see the Force, but I can.” Ren slid his hands down Hux’s back to squeeze his backside. Hux laughed.  
“Here? In the meditation chamber you just carved up?”  
“Here,” replied Ren. “I want you right here.”

 

Hux’s doubts resurfaced hours later as he lay in bed beside Ren. He listened to Ren’s deep, slow breathing, waiting for Ren to sense that he was awake and offer reassurance. Hux frowned at the thought. He’d never been so dependent on anyone else for a sense of certainty and it unsettled him that he had to put his trust in the invisible Force, in Kylo Ren’s interpretation of events that Hux could not foresee, and in the other half of a conversation that he had half-heard and had half-forgotten already. Hux turned and slipped his arm around Ren’s waist, nuzzling into his shoulder. Ren’s only reaction was a sigh and a slight shift in position to allow Hux to fit better against his side. It meant nothing, thought Hux. Ren was often difficult to rouse after his deepest meditations, and their activities in the scorched remains of Ren’s meditation chamber must have exhausted him further. Hux smiled at the memory and kissed Ren’s shoulder then slipped out of bed and put on his robe. He sent one secure message and walked along the corridor to his old suite. Opan arrived a few seconds later.  
“Sir? What’s happened?” Opan was attired in a grey robe but had paused to arm himself. Hux pointed.  
“Nothing. Is that a blaster in your pocket?”  
Opan laughed. “Yes. I apologise that I did not stop to dress in uniform. Your message said it was urgent.”  
“I want you to listen very carefully to what I am about to say, and never repeat it. Understood?”  
“Yes, of course!” Opan frowned at Hux, who nodded and stepped close enough to whisper despite the regular sweeps for covert surveillance devices that always turned up nothing. Opan leaned in to hear the barest murmur of Hux’s words.  
“I want you to place listening devices in Kylo Ren’s private meditation chambers.”  
Opan took a step backward and gave Hux a look of surprise. “Sir, that... that would be...”  
“A prudent move, I think,” said Hux. He moved close again so that he could keep his voice below the hum and whirr of the air recycler. “He’s in contact with someone through the Force. I want to know who it is and what they are discussing. Confidentially.”  
“Can’t you just ask him?” said Opan, matching Hux’s voice in conspiratorial tone and volume. “He’s your husband.”  
“I did,” said Hux. “He is very good at evasion and distraction.”  
“Ah.” Opan nodded. “I will see to it personally.”  
Hux laid a hand on Opan’s shoulder and made eye contact. “I knew I could count on you, Tritt.”  
Opan nodded and swallowed, desperately looking for the right words to say next, but Hux just squeezed his shoulder and left.

Ren half-woke when Hux slipped back into bed.  
“Mmm, cold! Where’ve y’been?”  
“I met Opan. We had an urgent internal security matter to discuss.” Hux kissed Ren’s cheek. “All under control. Nothing you need to concern yourself about.”  
“Mmm c’m’ere.” Ren pulled Hux on top of himself. Hux laughed softly at the feeling of Ren’s erection pressing against his hip.  
“You’re insatiable, Kylo. I need sleep!”  
Ren thrust up slowly and smiled against Hux’s lips. “Won’t take long. Promise. Can’t have my husband thinking he needs to sneak out at midnight and meet another man.”  
“It wasn’t like that at all!” Hux protested. “Oh, very well. Want me to ride you or fuck you?”  
“Yes please.” Ren sniggered. “Now it’s worth being woken up. Fuck me first.”

 

By the end of the next day, with the unwitting assistance of several service and repair droids, Opan had installed listening devices in Ren’s throne room meditation chamber, the room he used for meditation in the suite he shared with Hux, the gymnasium reserved for his exclusive use and several other locations he was known to favour. All Opan had to do was wait until he could access his secure comms channel and download files from the sound-activated surveillance devices. Hux made no further reference to their midnight meeting, but this was expected in the name of discretion. Opan would alert Hux if he picked up anything important. At the end of the third day, Opan listened to a recording of the Supreme Leader’s training routine, fervently hoping that this one would not end with a passing visit from Hux leading to a shared sanisteam like the previous one. He tuned out a little to concentrate on paperwork, listening only for changes to the yells and grunts of Ren completing his saber forms.

 _“You! Wait, let me check for... privacy.”_ Opan dropped his datapad and pressed the earpiece more securely to his ear. He closed his eyes to listen more carefully.

_”Have you reconsidered? Will you join me here?”_

_”No, no. A war with the Hutts will—”_

_”I know all war is evil in your eyes, but—”_

_”This has NOTHING to do with settling old scores of Han’s!”_

_”Rey, wait. I want to bring them down. Trust me—”_

Opan reset the file and listened again and again until he thought he might be able to recite Ren’s words without error. Feeling a light, dizziness in his head, a tremble in his joints and a flutter in his stomach, he downloaded it onto a memory chip and wiped the original file, then commed Hux.

 **Col. T. Opan 2043:** _Sorry to bother you Grand Marshal, but I would like to consult with you at your convenience on a matter relating to internal security._


	6. Chapter 6

“Make this quick,” Hux said as he walked into the living room of his old chambers. “The Supreme Leader is expecting me for supper soon. Is it very urgent?”  
Opan considered the question for a moment then nodded. “I believe so, sir. Perhaps I should present you with the evidence, and you can decide for yourself whether we need some further discussion?” Opan held out the datachip that contained the recording. He leaned close. “This was recorded during Leader Ren’s training session this morning.”  
Hux’s face coloured. He frowned and asked, “you listen in to Ren’s gym sessions?” Opan looked away. Hux took the chip, slotted it into his secure comm unit, and listened. Opan watched as Hux’s expression went from confusion to surprise to fury. “You should have brought me this sooner,” he said. Red faced and shaking, Hux forced the words through gritted teeth and Opan recognised that he was resisting the urge to shout.  
“I didn’t get a chance to hear it for myself until just before I commed you,” Opan explained. “I thought under the circumstances that a slight delay would be less damaging than assigning this surveillance job to one of my officers.”  
Hux paced the room, fists tightly clenched and arms rigid by his sides. “Is this the only copy?”  
“Yes, sir. The original file is wiped and overwritten. The copy in your comlink is the only one.” Opan watched Hux’s progress, holding himself back from following physically. “Do you want me to destroy it?”  
“No.” Hux stopped pacing, shook his head and bit the knuckles of his left hand. “Find out where this ‘Rey’ is. She’s the girl Ren was obsessed with before the rout on Crait.” He turned to face Opan. “There could be an innocent explanation for his words. _Bring them down..._ He could have meant the Hutts.” Hux took a deep breath and smiled. “Yes, that must be it. Ren is planning to bring down the Hutts.”  
“Of course, sir. I apologise if I have misinterpreted Leader Ren’s words.” Opan steeled himself for a rebuke that did not come. He watched Hux’s face crumple, then recover.  
“That is what I choose to believe for now, Tritt. Until I find out more.” Hux looked directly at Opan. “Understand?”  
“Yes, sir.” Opan wetted his lips and swallowed. “Ah, do you plan to ask Leader Ren directly?”  
“Stars, no!” Hux laughed, a brittle, false little sound. “Can you imagine it? _Good evening Kylo my dear, are you planning to destroy the Order for some reason as yet unrevealed?_ No. I will put it from my mind until I have more evidence.”  
“If I may ask, sir? At risk of offending?” Opan raised his eyebrows and Hux frowned, but nodded. Opan sighed and sagged a little. He held out both hands, palms up. “How much more evidence do you need, Armitage? He’s hiding things from you, lying to you and fobbing you off with mysterious references to the Force when you point out that every plan to annex Hutt Space amounts to a suicide mission for the Order. I commed you about this recording because I think it is not the Hutts that Leader Ren intends to bring down.” Opan looked down. “Or, at least, not only the Hutts.”

Hux felt his knees give way and he sat heavily on his sofa. His head fell onto his hands and he rested his elbows on his knees. He was dimly aware of a shifting weight as Opan perched on the other end of the sofa. Hux spoke after a minute, voice low and thick.  
“Tritt, you will not speak of this again. Understand?”  
“Understood.” Opan waited. When Hux continued to sit with his head in his hands, Opan reached out and touched Hux on the shoulder. “I could still be wrong, Armitage. You know him better than I do.”  
Hux nodded. “I hope you are wrong, but I fear you might not be. I had thought that his insistence on a full scale attack on Hutt Space was merely misguided, and that if I presented him with enough evidence of the Order’s unreadiness, he would come round to my way of thinking.” Hux turned his head and let his red-rimmed eyes rest on Opan. “But he is not stupid and he is not ignorant of the limits of the Order’s resources.”  
Opan patted Hux’s shoulder. “Perhaps his trust in the Force is genuine.”  
Hux shook Opan’s hand away and stood up. He turned and gestured at Opan. “If it is, then his fitness to lead the Order is in question. Snoke kept such superstition out of military matters. Ren is allowing his belief to endanger everything we have built. I can’t... I can’t. This is hopeless.”  
Opan stood up too. “Armitage, he is your Supreme Leader and your husband. Surely you have influence over him?”  
Hux sighed. “I am beginning to realise that the influence goes mostly one way. Tritt, I have been blinded by my... my reluctance to relinquish his... companionship.”

Hux sat down again. Opan watched for a few seconds then sat close beside him. He offered Hux an arm around his shoulder. For a handful of minutes, the only sounds in the room were the constant hum and soft whirr that came from the air recycler and the quiet thrum of the engines that pervaded the ship’s structure and made its solid skeleton vibrate in empathy. Eventually, Hux’s shoulders moved under Opan’s arm.  
“How could I allow this to happen, Tritt?” Hux turned his head to regard Opan’s slight frown. “Was I so isolated that I ignored all the warning signs in favour of his... attention? I should have refused him. I should not have agreed to the initial charade that led me to this disaster.”  
Opan tightened his grip for a second then relaxed. “You couldn’t have seen this coming, Armitage. Who would believe that the Supreme Leader himself might entertain thoughts of treachery against the Order? It’s unthinkable.”  
“You think the unthinkable for me, Tritt.” Hux leaned against Opan. “Imagine having a Grand Marshal so enamoured of someone else that they are incapable of sustaining independence of thought. I should be above all this... romantic claptrap. I am very glad that you have never fallen for another officer in this way.”  
Opan bit his lip and his eyes flitted around the corners of the room as if searching for words. He scoffed gently. “But I have, Armitage.”  
For a silent minute, Opan wondered if he had perhaps not spoken aloud after all, then Hux sat upright and sighed. “I won’t ask who the lucky officer— Oh!” Hux turned to direct a watery smile at Opan. “Is it Commander Mitaka? Is that why you wanted her brought onto my team? Well, I can’t hold that against you.”  
“No!” Opan sat upright too and forced out a laugh. “Gilse isn’t my type. It’s best if I don’t tell.”

Hux got up and went to the ‘fresher to rinse his face, then returned and watched Opan for a few seconds.  
“I do not need to tell you that this entire discussion is completely private and—“  
“No sir!” Opan saluted. “What discussion?”  
Hux smiled. “Good man. Now. I have to face my husband for an intimate supper then... Well. How do I look?”  
Opan took in the sight of Hux’s reddened eyelids, deep shadows and blotchy cheeks. “Honestly? Like you’ve stuck your face in a patch of sarragrass in pollen season, sir.”  
“Kark it, Tritt, how am I going to fix this?”  
Opan walked within reach of Hux. “With this,” he said, pulling one of Hux’s code cylinders out of its holder in his tunic and replacing it with one of his own, sliding it snug and patting it. “You know what this is for?”  
Hux touched the bulge of the fake code cylinder. _“Poison?”_ he mouthed, aghast. Opan nodded. Hux kept his voice low. “Will it... will it hurt? I don’t want to watch—“ Hux closed his eyes and screwed up his face for a few seconds. “I won’t see him die in agony? I couldn’t stand that.”  
“No, no I promise,” said Opan. “The whole dose will induce a state of euphoria then a peaceful slip into oblivion from sleep. Death will feel like the warm embrace of a lover.” Opan looked away. “If you time it right, you will have a few minutes where you can ask him anything and he will tell you the truth. He’ll want to.”

Hux nodded, patted Opan’s arm and left. On reaching the door to the suite he shared with Ren, Hux touched the cylinder again. It would be so easy, easier than anything he’d ever done, to pour it into his favourite Nabooian whiskey and escape this predicament without having to face either Kylo Ren’s lies or the repercussions of having been fooled by them. But he dismissed the thought almost as soon as it entered his head. He’d worked hard to rise to the top of the First Order. He’d got there on merit, yet for years had been unable to escape the smear of nepotism based on the ex-imperials’ assumptions about his father. Hux scoffed. They’d had no idea how his father had held him back out of fear of being eclipsed. He’d been able to deal with his father, therefore he would be able to deal with his husband. He straightened his tunic, patted his face with the cool backs of his gloved hands, opened the door and walked in.

“Ah!” The room was darkened and Ren was waiting for him. “It’s not like you to be late. Are you well?”  
Hux frowned, taken aback by the unexpected enquiry. He watched Ren light three candles set between serving dishes on the small dining table. “Um,” he said, “yes. Quite well.”  
“You’re not,” replied Ren, looking up. Hux felt as if Ren’s eyes bored into him and he looked away. “You’re upset about something. I could feel it before you came in. What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing!” Armitage gave Ren a weak smile. “Just a trying day. An unexpected hydrospanner in the couplings. You know.”  
“Well.” Ren smiled back. “Sit here. Supper is some kind of spiced fish in sauce. Why don’t you serve us both while I finish up in the ‘fresher? I won’t be a minute.”  
Hux nodded. He waited for the ‘fresher door to close, quickly dished up two portions of fish stew and sprinkled the contents of Opan’s fake code cylinder over Ren’s before sliding the empty cylinder back into place. As Ren returned, Hux took off his gloves and tunic then sat down, lifting his spoon and taking a mouthful of food. “Mmm. This is good.”  
“Thank you. I made it.” Ren slipped into his seat and picked up his spoon.  
“You can cook?” Hux’s eyebrows shot up. “Since when?”  
“Since...” Ren pretended to think. “Since I decided that my father’s cooking was terrible.” Ren’s spoon dipped into his stew. Hux followed it with his gaze as Ren raised a chunk of firm-fleshed fish in rich, spicy sauce to his lips. Ren put it down again. “Hmm, I think I will pour a glass of wine. Something powerful to match the spices.”  
Hux put his spoon down and stood up. “Actually, Kylo, I don’t feel terribly well. Please excuse me.”

Hux retreated to the ’fresher. He undressed, took a sonic and put on clean pyjamas. When he emerged, he saw Ren with the plate empty in front of him and his head resting on his forearms on the table. Hux walked forward slowly.  
“Kylo?” He reached the table.  
“Kylo!” He shook Ren’s shoulder.  
Ren looked up and gave Hux a warm smile, eyes sparkling. “Eat. ‘S kriffing great.”  
Hux smiled sadly and lifted his spoon. He chewed on a lump of fish and swallowed.  
“See! Can cook. For you.”  
“You can. This is excellent.” Hux took another mouthful. Ren watched, wearing the same dreamy smile. Hux smiled back and ate more.  
“Love you. Love you, Arm’tage Hu— Hux. Didn’t ‘spect to.” Hux felt his eyes prickle. He squeezed them shut tight. Ren laughed. “Aw, Armie. It’s good!”  
“Truth is, Kylo, I love you too and that’s why I am so upset tonight. Karking sith. I can’t believe—“ Hux felt his head swim and tears escaped. “Pfassk it, Ren. Why did you do it? Why plot to bring us all down? I love you! I thought... I thought we... Kriff. What am I saying.”  
“Ginger.” Ren closed his eyes. “They’ll have your glorious red hair and maybe my dark eyes. Or maybe my wavy hair and pure olivine eyes.” Ren simpered at Hux. “O-o-oh! Wavy ginger hair. We’ll have beautiful kids. Clever too.”  
Hux laughed through his tears at the absurdity of the situation. “Oh I know! I know. I planned it. We’d go t’ Ka... Kamino. Gen... genet... tics labs. Pick whose eyes an’ hair we wan’. In a year. I thought, tell y’ in a year I wan’ ‘em to make babies out of... of... us. Three. Wan’ call first babba Sloane an’ you pick t’ rest.”

Hux barely registered Ren sitting upright and throwing his half-full bowl off the table until he heard the porcelain smash against the wall. Ren stood and shook Hux, pulled him to his feet. “Come on. Up. Stand up.”  
“Uh?” Hux saw the orange-red stain on the wall and Ren’s sudden recovery through bleary eyes. He grinned. “Oh, oh, you got better! ‘M glad. Hurts t’ kill you. Dun’ wanna. Love y’. Hurts t’ not. Kill you. He-e-ey!”  
Ren hoisted Hux up from his chair and made him kneel. He held the back of Hux’s shirt and stuck a finger deep into his mouth. Hux gagged, bent further over and retched. When he’d finished vomiting, Hux sat back on his heels and swilled his mouth out with water offered to him by Ren.  
“Damn you, Hux,” said Ren without anger. “What made you lace my food with Opan’s favourite seasoning?” Hux sighed, looked unsteadily at the soiled floor and wrinkled his nose. Ren shook his head and scoffed. “Fine. Get up.” 

With help, Hux made it through to the living room and Ren summoned a service droid to clear the dining room. Ren dumped Hux on the sofa and sat beside him, arm around his shoulders.  
“Why do you want me dead, Hux?”  
“Betrayed us. Me. You want. Bring down. Order. Me. For her.” Hux sighed deeply and his head lolled forward. Ren shook him.  
“Hux!”  
“Changed. Mind.” Hux leaned his head against Ren’s shoulder. “You. Love me. I.” Hux sighed deeply again. “Love you. Why.”  
Ren waited then shook Hux awake. “Why what, Hux?”  
“Why betray. Us.”  
“Kriff, Hux, why couldn’t you just trust me?”  
But there was no answer. Hux leaned heavily on Ren, eyes closed and jaw slack. Ren shifted Hux into his arms and carried him to bed.

 

Swimming into consciousness, all Hux saw was inky blue with tiny flecks and flashes of light that faded so fast he couldn’t follow the sparks with his eyes. He realised after a while that, despite the lightshow, his eyes were closed and his head throbbed as if he’d been hit by a happabore then drowned the embarrassment of it in cheap liquor. He would have groaned, but his throat felt raw and his mouth was parched and sticky. He rubbed at the familiar texture of the bedcovers and decided he was either in his own bed or in one so similar it made no difference. He hoped for a second that it wasn’t Opan’s. Had he drunk too much last night? Hux had no idea but it wasn’t his style. Last night was a mystery, a problem, he decided, that inhabited the past and therefore was not something to dwell on in the present. He rolled out of bed and crawled to the ‘fresher. Leaving the door open, he drank straight from the tap over the sink and settled down to sleep on the floor.

He came to some time later, cold and sore where his bony shoulder and hip pressed onto the hard floor tiles. With a few false starts, Hux pushed himself up, moaning gently at the increased intensity of his pounding headache with the effort of movement. Using the sink for support, he pulled himself to his feet and found an analgesic sachet in the cabinet. As he fumbled it open, a warm hand closed around it and a voice told him firmly _no._  
Hux tried to grab the precious powder back. “Ugh, Ren. I’m sick.”  
“No painkiller. It will make you worse. I promise. Clean your teeth, drink more water then come back to bed.”  
Hux filled a cup with water from the tap and drank it all. Ren made him fill it again and drink that too, slowly, then helped him back to bed. Hux sank into the soft mattress and sighed. “Did I make a fool of myself last night? If I did, I apologise, Kylo. It is not something I make a habit of.”  
Ren did not answer, and Hux fell asleep. The next time Hux woke up, Ren snored gently beside him and Hux lay rigid, remembering in disjointed flashes that had to be pieced into a coherent order that left him reeling with anger and fear. He eased himself out of bed, knees threatening to refuse to carry his weight, and fetched his monomolecular blade from its sheath. He carried it point-first to Ren’s side of the bed and raised his arm, then looked at Ren’s peaceful face. There was movement and a twin glint. Ren’s eyes were open, gazing up at Hux.  
“Go on then,” said Ren quietly. “I won’t stop you, if it’s what you want.”  
Hux’s arm would not move. “You’re doing this,” he said. “You’re stopping me with the Force.”  
“I’m not.” Ren swallowed and slowly drew the bedcovers aside. “You know I’m not. You know how that would feel. Go on. Kill me if that’s what you want. Will murdering me make it better?”  
Hux dropped his arm. The blade clattered to the floor and he sank down beside it. 

In the darkness, Ren reached out his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be three epilogues depending on what you’d like to happen next. Please heed the warnings!
> 
> Chapter 7 - Ending One - Major character death.  
> Chapter 8 - Ending Two - the other major character death.  
> Chapter 9 - Ending Three - the happy ending wheree veryone lives. Even Opan.


	7. Ending One (warning - major character death - skip to chapter 9 if that’s not your thing)

With a sombre expression, Ren faced the holorecorder droid that hovered at eye level. The counter just above the primary lens cluster told him that he had been recording for a little over four minutes. He turned to the open casket beside him and stroked a gloved hand across a sunken cheek, barely more pallid in death than it had been in life. Hux wasn’t there. Even in the Force, Hux was gone. Ren held back a stab of hurt and regret: Hux should have listened, trusted. Lived.

“Armitage Hux was a man who gained strength through diligence and high principles. He made it his lifelong mission to hold back the chaos that threatens to swamp the Galaxy and smother our freedom.” He smiled sadly at the supine figure in its white and gold finery, suppressing a snort at the sudden thought that here they were again in the throne room, wearing their wedding clothes. Ren slid the gold and jet diadem from his head and settled it snugly into Hux’s firegold hair instead, while the holorecorder droid captured the moment of pathos for posterity.

Ren faced the lens array again. “At this very moment, Colonel Tritt Opan, Hux’s most trusted adjutant, is being tried, convicted and executed for the double crime of treason and cold-blooded murder by poisoning.” Ren closed his eyes for a count of three. When he opened them, he gave the lenses a hard glare. “To honour my closest adviser, Grand Marshal Armitage Hux, his final plan to conquer Hutt Space and cleanse the Galaxy for the First Order is to be carried out. Be assured that this war is right and justified. As your Supreme Leader, my greatest desire is to give you a galaxy fit for future generations. To this end, the simultaneous attacks that Grand Marshal Hux planned with High Command have already begun.” Ren gave the holorecorder droid a final, thin-lipped smile. “Carrying out my husband’s final wishes is the finest way to honour his memory. Might is all.” The recorder clicked off and Ren started to walk away, but paused to say, “Relay that on loop to all personnel, officers and troops, starting now.”

Barely clear of the throne room, Ren checked his comms and yelled at the guard to see to it that his personal shuttle was prepared for immediate launch. When he reached his shuttle hangar, knots of officers and troopers stood at stiff attention around holoprojectors, listening to the words he had recorded only minutes earlier. Unobserved, Ren slipped into his shuttle and sealed the door, then let the autopilot take him clear of the hangar shields of the Supremacy II. As soon as he was far enough away to ensure his own safety, he entered his first set of calculations and sighed in relief as point stars smeared out to blue-white streaks around him.

Ren programmed jump after jump after jump, here and there seemingly at random, until he was sure even Hux’s roomful of lieutenants tapping away at their data consoles could not hope to track him. Uncounted hours later, low on fuel, he entered a high orbit around an insignificant planet and cut power from all unnecessary systems. He ate then stumbled to the bunkroom.  Too numb from exhaustion to shed a tear over the trunk of Hux’s belongings he’d stowed there days ago, he fell onto a mattress and slept. When he woke he meditated, searching through the Force for a familiar presence.

There. Weak and far away, but waiting. Ren smiled and pulled at the tendrils of her consciousness until she noticed him.  
Words, or maybe just the idea of the words, formed in his brain. _Ben!_ _Where are you?_  
“I’m right here,” he said. “I did it. Tell me it worked.”  
_The First Order? What did you do?_  
“Finished. Scattered.” Ren sighed. “I hope. I did what I said I would do.”  
_Wait._  
Ren opened his eyes and stretched. He’d know if the same presence called to him again. He ate another ration pack and dozed, soothed by the quiet hum of the air recycler.

An unreal feeling swept across Ren’s awareness as if he was watching himself from far away. Sounds came as if from underwater and a small figure flickered into his vision, ghostly at first but seeming more substantial with every second that Ren reached out to her. He smiled, but then his face crumpled and he sobbed as his arms passed through her.  
“Come home, Ben,” the figure said, voice cracking, shiny tear tracks on her cheeks. “It’s over. Rey says it’s over. Come home.”  
Ren pushed his hair back and wiped his face on his sleeve. He shook his head and chewed his lip, emotion ready to overflow again. The figure waited for him to recover. He met her gaze at last but couldn’t hold it.  
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Leia, I am so sorry.”


	8. Ending Two (warning - major character death - skip to chapter 9 for happily ever after)

Ren’s hand stretched down and he shuffled across the bed to reach Hux. His fingers found Hux’s hair, stroking through strands sticky with gel from the day and dried sweat from the aftereffects of the small dose of Opan’s poison. Ren cooed reassuring words and Hux curled into a ball. “Come back to bed, Armitage.” Ren said. “This is ridiculous.”

Hux did not move. Ren concentrated on the kernel of anger and fear that darkened Hux’s presence in the Force, kneading it until it dispersed. “You are the most powerful man in the Order, Hux, and the Galaxy soon will be yours. Come back to bed and dream with me.”  
This time Hux uncurled, pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. Ren made way for him, pulling the covers back. Hux lay down, head nestled into Ren’s shoulder as if this was any mundane morning before breakfast.  
“What did you do?” Hux asked, looking for a confession of events that he already suspected.  
“I knew. Somehow I knew you and Opan were plotting to kill me as soon as you internalised the desire to actually do it. I know Opan’s ways so I switched our plates and pretended to have taken the poison.” Ren wrapped his arms around Hux and held him. “But when you revealed that you had thoughts about our future, fleshed out plans and not just vague imaginings, I wanted you to live. I thought...” Ren took a deep breath. “I thought you married me only for the promotion and stayed only for the convenience. But you said you—”  
“I know what I said, Kylo,” Hux snapped. “And I would take it back if I could. You lied to make me say it. You don’t love me. You only want to manipulate me into doing whatever you want.”  
Ren lay silent for a minute. He stroked Hux’s hair again and cradled his head with one hand. Ren kissed Hux’s forehead. “No,” he said eventually. “That was truth. I admit that at the very start I thought you had to be kept in line, and my proposal was intended to keep you loyal to me. But I have come to love you, Armitage. You make me want to hand you the whole galaxy just to see what you would do with it.”  
Hux squeezed his eyes closed. “Kylo, we just tried to kill each other,” he said quietly.  
Kylo laughed. “Had to happen at some point. But here we are,” he said. “Still breathing. Get past this, Armitage, and together we can survive anything.”

Still a little under the influence of Opan’s drug, Hux dozed in Ren’s arms until the lights brightened on his preferred waking pattern. Ren still held him loosely when he woke, and as Hux shifted to rise, Ren murmured, “Stay. Tell them you and I are busy making plans for the future of the Order.”  
“Very well,” said Hux. “I’ll get my comlink.”  
Hux wandered through to the dining room, where no evidence remained of their evening other than a small pile of objects on the table, retrieved by the service droid. Hux picked up his comlink. A shadow loomed in the doorway behind him.  
“Tell them—“  
Before he could think about it too much, Hux grabbed his blaster pistol from the table, whirled around and shot Ren twice in the chest then dropped the blaster. Ren’s empty robe fluttered to the floor a second after the weapon that killed him. Hux thumbed his comlink and waited for the beep that confirmed the line was secure.  
“Opan. My chambers. Now.”

Opan arrived in minutes. He looked around the suite and nodded to Hux, who still stood staring at the floor where Ren ought to lie. Opan touched him on the elbow and Hux shook himself.  
“Explain this, Tritt. I put two blaster bolts into my husband’s heart and lungs, and the only evidence is a charred bathrobe.”  
Opan shrugged. “I’d put that down to luck, sir. He’s really...?”  
Armitage snorted. “I didn’t miss. Check for yourself.”  
Opan picked up the robe and examined the blackened holes in the fabric. He folded the robe carefully to hide the damage and laid it on a chair. “Well then,” Opan said with a hint of amusement. “I have only one further thing to say before I oversee the incineration of this rather scant evidence.”  
“And that is?” Hux asked.  
“Long live Supreme Leader Armitage Hux.”


	9. Ending Three (Everyone Lives)

A howl punctured the dark. Hux woke and felt for the expected warmth beside him, but the sheets were cool and smooth under his hand. The howl came again and he sat up, rubbing at bleary eyes.  
“Lights twenty percent.”  
Hux closed his eyes and waited for the brightness beyond his eyelids to settle. The third howl, broken into hiccuping sobs, catapulted him out of bed and into the adjoining room, the room that had once been his dressing room but was now decorated with TIE Silencers and X-wing fighters in bright colours. Slinging on his robe, he approached the crib with trepidation and looked inside.  
“Oh dear, are you a stinky-poo?” he said, voice bright and smile false. “Dadda’s here to make it all better.”  
He reached into the crib and lifted the unhappy infant, holding her away from his body. He laid the small, warm creature on the mat laid out nearby and pulled over the bag left for him.  
“Well then. I suppose I had better get you cleaned up. Nobody likes a stink on a spaceship.” Hux peeled the baby’s nightclothes off. He wrinkled his nose and held his breath when he tackled the disposable nappy underneath.  
“Oh karking sith, Anakin, that’s the worst thing I have ever smelled! Good job you can’t understand what I’m saying yet.” Hux reached for the sanitary wipes dispenser and pulled out a handful. “What the kriff did you have for dinner? We could develop that as a biological weapon.” Hux wiped and inspected and wiped again. Once satisfied with his work, he put a clean nappy on the infant and wrestled her pyjama suit back on.  
Anakin gurgled and smiled. Hux picked her up and held her close. “I suppose after all that you’ll want another story,” he said, kissing the baby’s pale, ginger hair and laughing softly. “Have I ever told you about the time your pappa and your dadda tried to murder each other over a silly thing that didn’t matter at all? No?” Hux rubbed light circles on Anakin’s back while Anakin gurgled and mouthed at the shoulder of Hux’s robe. “Will we go find pappa and ask him about it?”  
Hux smiled at Anakin’s wide grin. He walked through the suite until he reached the door of the other bedroom and peered at the sleeping forms within. He retreated again and murmured to Anakin, “Oh well. They’re fast asleep, Ana. I’m afraid you’ll have to come to bed with me and make do with the story about the nasty ogre, the silver lady and the golden beetle.”

Ren woke with a small, dark, curly-haired head on his arm. He supported the small but surprisingly heavy head with the force and slid his arm out, replacing it with a pillow before rubbing away the pins and needles from his cold skin. The boy wriggled and muttered something in his sleep, and Ren held his breath, searching through the Force for any sign of trouble. There was nothing. He eased himself off the bed and tidied the covers around the boy, leaning over to kiss him on the head before retreating. On reaching his own bed, he paused and grinned at the sight of Hux asleep with Anakin sprawled across his chest. Unwilling to wake either of them, Ren got into bed as carefully as he could. As was his habit since they had first visited Kamino and explained their needs, before he slept Ren meditated purely on the people close to him. Hux burned as brightly as ever, a reflection of his own emotions. Sloane, their dark-haired son, felt like an anchor to reality that he needed. Anakin, their daughter, whose pale gingery blonde hair promised to turn fire-red as she grew, had a force-presence as slippery as graphoil. Babies often did, Ren had found out when he researched how the Force might be passed on in families. It meant nothing.

“We should take them with us,” Ren announced over breakfast. Anakin, happy in pappa’s arms with her lips sealed around a bottle, offered no opinion. Sloane, frowning at the bowl of synthsust in front of him, asked for sweet jogan fruit paste. Ren spooned the thick, purple paste into Sloane’s bowl and offered him the spoon to suck.  
“I don’t know,” said Hux. “Kamino is a thirty six hour trip from here. That’s a long time to spend with, ah, people who have limited attention spans.” He glanced furtively at Anakin and Sloane, who didn’t care. “And they’re looking forward to spending time with Uncle Tritt.”  
“You mean Opan is looking forward to you owing him a favour,” said Ren. “I thought we could have a family trip. You, me, Sloane and Anakin. Going to collect their little brother or sister.” Ren grinned. “Bring Opan along.”  
“Kriff, no,” Hux replied. “General Opan, babysitter to the Supreme Leader’s brood? Not his style. Besides, I need him in charge here. I was rather looking forward to four days with you. Alone. On a small shuttle. Not much to do.”  
“Oh?” Ren grinned. “Oh I see what you mean.”  
“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Hux grinned back. “What if—” Hux stared at Anakin.  
“What if what?” asked Ren.  
Hux glared. “Kylo, are you doing that?”  
Ren frowned and looked at Hux and Anakin. Anakin’s bottle did lazy somersaults in the air above her face while she gurgled and giggled at it.  
“In that case,” said Ren, “we will definitely need a babysitter.”


End file.
